


Trying to Get Through

by Brk4Sourwolves (pariahsdream), undergrounduno



Series: The Best of Intentions [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Typical Violence, Chaptered, F/M, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), POV Alternating, Post S2, Slow Build, alpha pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 74,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pariahsdream/pseuds/Brk4Sourwolves, https://archiveofourown.org/users/undergrounduno/pseuds/undergrounduno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jackson finally became a real (werewolf) boy, everyone seemed to let out a collective breath they were holding. Gerard Argent, whether dead or not, was no longer threatening them and the hunter problem dropped off severely. Stiles wasn't sure if that was Chris Argent's doing or not but whatever, he was grateful for not fearing for his life.</p><p>Which lasted about... four days after the whole big showdown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which the Current Situation is Discussed and Lydia Would Be Both Beautiful and as Terrible as the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Set directly after Season 2. I have taken some info from the hints dropped by the TW creators on Season 3 and ignored some purposefully because I wanted to. Be forewarned, this is the first fic I’ve written since I was about 14 so... yeah. Be gentle please. Uno is the much more experienced writer of us. Many thanks to elfhawk being the (writing) beta and cajoling us into sounding gooder. 
> 
> Notes are at the bottom of regarding a character death and some violence.

When Jackson finally became a real (werewolf) boy, everyone seemed to let out a collective breath they were holding. Gerard Argent, whether dead or not, was no longer threatening them and the hunter problem dropped off severely. Stiles wasn't sure if that was Chris Argent's doing or not but whatever, he was grateful for not fearing for his life.

Which lasted about... four days after the whole big showdown. That wasn't bad considering it had been a nonstop whirlwind of vengeancey death lizards, murdering psychos, geriatric psychos, oh and did he mention Peter freaking Hale back from the dead like a particularly smart-assed zombie?

Creepifying.

It took them that long to find out that Erica and Boyd were missing. Derek, being his usual forthcoming self, had bit out a snarl at Scott that they were his pack, not Scott’s. Stiles had ranted at him for that, pointing out that the police needed to know about two minors going missing. Derek had responded with his usual enthusiasm to the prospect. Stiles almost went for it anyways but something about the fact Derek was being really cagey about why or how they were missing was enough to make the younger man hold off.

it didn’t stop Stiles from going through other channels however. His dad might not always bring his work home with him but Stiles was a snoop. He was a master snoop. He could totally out snoop professionals. Also his dad’s passwords were always the same (‘duckdodgers’ because he was a big kid at heart). But no matter what he poured through, there was nothing there to see so they had to wait it out.

Isaac ended up working some extra shifts at the animal clinic with Scott. Stiles half expected it to be some kind of weird stalking Scott thing again but it didn’t seem to be that at all. Isaac’d calmed down some since he was first turned and genuinely liked Scott even if he didn’t seem to like Stiles a whole hell of a lot. But he followed Scott’s lead so Stiles was off the face-biting list (thank god).

They were all sitting out on the steps of the library across the street from the diner sharing a bucketful of curly fries between the three of them. Well, Scott and Isaac were sharing, Stiles was kind of stealing what he could because seriously, werewolves and food. Last time he was suckered into paying!

“Hey that’s my dad’s car,” he stated around a mouthful of curly fries as a patrol car rounded the corner near them. When he glanced over at the other boys, he was startled to see that Isaac seemed to poof into thin air. Scott shrugged.

“Guess he’s still kinda weird about cops.”

“Whatever, it’s my dad, not like he’s going to arrest him for loitering or being a bad imitation of James Dean,” He scoffed, brushing grease from the fries off onto his ratty jeans and stood up.

“Who?”

“Dude, James Dean? You know, like James Franco but way, way before?” Stiles might have binged on AMC a few too many nights after being unable to sleep.

Scott laughed as he stood up as well. “I loved Pineapple Express!”

Stiles shook his head fondly as his father strolled up with that easy going, confident stride that Stiles had always wished (secretly) that he could pull off himself. He needed to focus more on keeping upright and not klutzing out.

“Hello Scott, you’ve got ketchup on your shirt there- at least that’s what I’m assuming,” Sheriff Stilinski pointed out as he pulled his sunglasses off to reveal those crows’ feet that cracked over his face like badly cared for leather. It made him half wish his dad could retire but he knew that the job was helping keep his dad going, what drove him more than he wanted to admit.

“- I can’t even believe I’m considering this,” his dad was muttering, rubbing the back of his neck. “Scott... follow me.”

“Um, okay?” The three of them moved back to the patrol car and his dad pulled out a torn, dirty jacket. Scott’s face flickered in recognition and surprise. “That’s Erica’s!”

Stiles grinned but the expression on his dad’s face made him swallow it back down in a surge of panic. “Dad? Dad why do you have Erica’s jacket? Where’s the rest of her? You would bring her in if she was here, right? Where did you get-”

“Stiles,” his dad cut in, squeezing his shoulder hard but the pressure was comforting. “I’m not even going to ask how you knew that about Erica’s jacket but... it’s probably not good. This was found with the remains of a large predator out in the Preserve.”

“A large predator? Like what?” Scott was sniffing, trying not to be obvious about it. “It smells kinda familiar but mostly like blood.”

“It was some sort of large cat. Possibly a mountain lion. It was pretty badly savaged and all of its organs were gone,” he admitted, glancing off, ignoring the fascinated and repulsed sound coming from his son’s mouth. “I know you’re... different Scott. And that you’re not the only different one in town. Could Derek Hale... .?” He paused, seemingly unwilling to articulate what he wanted to ask. Or didn’t want to. “He was the last person seen around three minors, two of whom are missing and one is Isaac Lahey. Both Milton Boyd’s sister and Erica Reyes’ mother have filed missing children reports.”

“Milton?” Scott echoed, looking confused.

“He’s not responsible for this,” Stiles piped up before Scott could, ignoring the new info about Boyd (hey, he understood dropping a name here or there after all). He set his jaw, staring up into his father’s somewhat surprised, skeptical eyes. “Derek’s a lot of things- creepy, aggressive, short tempered even with the simplest conversations, granted his conversations involve a lot of grunts and snarls-”

“Stiles-”

“-and okay, he was on a power trip for a really long time there. But there is one thing you can trust Derek to do and that’s protect his pac- er, family,” he amended, realizing they were in the streets. Granted he and Scott probably had a lot of inappropriate conversations in places they shouldn’t. Could be why they weren’t very popular. It was definitely a contributing factor.

Scott nodded along dutifully. “Yeah. I mean, I’m not Derek’s biggest fan either but he’s not the kind of person who’d mess up an animal and then drape a jacket over it. That’s just... kinda weird?”

Something about the way Scott said it niggled at the back of his brain. Why was that weird? Okay, mutilated animal corpses always were going to fall on the ‘not normal’ end of the spectrum but then again they had werewolves in their lives. Maybe it was a werewolf thing and it just wasn’t what they were thinking it was. There was still Peter Hale around after all.

“Stiles?” His father was looking half worried and half suspicious.

“Yeah?”

“You’re being quiet.”

“Yeeeeeeeah... .?” He drawled it out.

“You’re never quiet. When you are it’s a dangerous thing. Kind of like when a two year is quiet for too long,” he pointed out, smirking a little as Stiles sputtered and flailed around a bit. “Alright, alright that’s enough endangering of my investigation. You two behave, stay out of trouble. I’ll be working nights for the rest of the week, kiddo, so you’re on your own for food,” he warned, scruffing the top of Stiles’ head.

He saluted. “Gotcha. Now I get to dig out all the junk food I’ve been hiding.”

“You think you’re really funny with that don’t you? But just remember the longer I live, the longer I’m around to make your life hell,” his dad threatened. Stiles opened his mouth but it just hung there as his dad whistled, climbing into the cruiser.

“Uh, I think he got you there, dude.”

“How is this my life?” Stiles asked to the universe, throwing up his hands as he gave up trying to deal with his dad for the time being.

“Because you’re you?” A female voice piped up. “Also if I lived with you I’d probably want to strangle you too.”

“Lydia!” Stiles turned- or rather one half of his body turned while the other didn’t seem to know whether it wanted to go along. He stumbled over his feet, feeling his cheeks heat up as the strawberry blonde goddess arched a perfect brow. Perfectly. He gave her a little wave, trying for nonchalance and knowing he fell far, far from the goal. “You look... well... you always look... but now you look... ”

“I know,” she finally took mercy on Stiles, smug and self-satisfied with the appreciation. Summer agreed with Lydia- not that most seasons didn’t- bringing out freckles on her cheeks and turning her hair more of a golden strawberry blonde. Of course spring did too- she tended to look a little more relaxed in flowy girly clothing that Stiles wondered would feel brushed up against his hands. Fall had its own charm of course, with the hats and the way it made her nose- okay, so basically all seasons just enhanced the perfection of Lydia Martin. She was like Mother Nature- beautiful and terrible as the dawn... wait. Was that Mother Nature or Galadriel?

Lydia was awesome enough to be an elf queen though.

“Where have you been?” Scott’s brain was a little more in gear than Stiles’ at the moment.

Her face was animated as she wrinkled her nose (cutely of course, Stiles’ mind decided happily). “My dad got super protective after that last lacrosse game of the season. You know how it is, Daddy’s little princess locked up in the tower. So not my style. I am not a damsel in distress,” Her narrowed eyes demanded that both boys nod their head vigorously. “I did get to lay out on the beach and catch up on my SAT studying so it wasn’t a total loss. You two are the first people I’ve seen since I got released from prison.”

The carefully casual tone of her voice grabbed Stiles’ attention while Scott winced over the thought of SAT’s. He had been so focused on not failing, he didn’t even think about what came after that. Like getting ready to head out to college. Stiles pursed his lips together and huffed out a breath, wanting to kick himself. “So... Jackson?”

Lydia’s eyes shot up, hungry for information but unwilling to ask. “Jackson what? I haven’t seen him. I understand, what with the whole...” She made a vague gesture that somehow translated into ‘brainwashed kanima that I helped reanimate and purge of his bloodlust’. Rather elegantly if Stiles thought so. “It would be kind of hard to deal I think. And Jackson isn’t exactly the greatest at dealing with stuff he doesn’t want to.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he muttered, feeling frustrated and knowing that he had no right to. Even if he had been in love with Lydia forever, it didn’t mean he got to be pissed off that she was still hung up on her ex. Sort of ex. It just meant he got to be a little bitter when she left. “We haven’t seen him either. Far as I know, no one really has either. He’s not been his usual gregarious self.”

“Yeah, he’s not been an asshole either,” Scott piped up helpfully and frowned when Stiles patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe his parents took him away for the summer or something.”

“One could only hope.” And not bring him back.

Lydia ignored the comments and flicker her hair off her shoulder. “Well it doesn’t matter to me at all. We’re broken up. And while some people can’t get over that sort of thing,” She let a flick of her eyes land on Scott for a second. “I am more than capable of conquering anything I set my mind to. And I’m setting my mind to destroying a few hours with a mocha macchiato and Eugenie Scott’s latest paper.”

“Uh Lydia,” Scott called out hesitantly before she could get much further past Stiles. She turned and looked up into soulful brown eyes.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“I just... I haven’t seen her in almost a week.” Scott was really good at the wounded, heartbroken lover look. He was really pathetic looking.

“It hasn’t been that long-” Despite being all of 5 feet nothing (before the monster heels) Lydia still managed to be rather intimidating with that stare she could give a person- like she could completely destroy you atom by atom without mussing her french tips or something. “Look, I know there was some really, really weird stuff this last year that I still don’t know the half of but I do know one thing- Allison’s been hurting a long time now,” her voice wavered, sounding so empathetic that Stiles felt like a heel all over again for leaving her in the dark as long as they had.

“She’s coming home tomorrow and I don’t want you following her around like a lost puppy,” she poked a perfectly manicured nail into Scott’s chest. He looked torn, eager for news of Allison clearly.

“I knew she’d left but... where did she go? How is she? Have you seen her?”

Lydia pursued her glossy lips in a way that had Stiles’ brain meandering off on its own tangent as she replied. “I’m not sure I should tell you.” Something in Scott’s pathetically sad face must’ve spoke to her. “She’s been in San Francisco. She still has family there and friends from a couple years back. At least that’s what she says. None of them could come close to the sheer amazingness of my presence in her life but I digress. She looks thin but not in that Keira Knightley crazy gaunt way. More... toned, like a Jennifer Garner type? As for how she’s doing... I assume she’s doing well all things considered.”

“We all are I guess,” Scott agreed, not as relieved as he wanted to be clearly. Stiles could tell he was about two seconds from bounding over to Allison’s house to sit on her rooftop. Endearing and a little bit stalkerish... was that a werewolf thing?

“Yeah, we’re alive and we have the whole summer spread out in front of us. No Harris, no Coach Finstock, no other problems,” Stiles pointed out to the pair, sliding an arm around both their shoulders. “C’mon guys, we’re young and fancy free! We should do some actual normal teenager stuff! There’s the lake out on the Preserve you know!”

“Um, ew? That’s probably filled with bacteria and leeches, Stiles!” Lydia rolled her eyes and swished away , leaving him staring after her, hair cascading in beautiful curls down her back.

“So, that’s like a maybe right?”

Scott sighed and patted Stiles on the shoulder.


	2. In Which Everyone Decides to Work Together (Sort of. Mostly.)

Two days later and Stiles was pretty much going stir crazy. Despite his emphatic declaration of relief at not having anyone or anything attempting to kill him, he’d kind of gotten used to the adrenaline. Adderall did its magic mojo goodness on his brain still but the thrill of it (which he felt guilty for that because, hello, that way laid leather jackets and possible Bonnie & Clyde shootouts) was something he’d grown comfortable with.

So he spent his time researching up on what sort of animals (or supernatural things) liked to leave mutilated corpses and remove all the organs. It was grisly research but it was better than doing nothing. Besides Scott was coming over sometime that day to hang out, and he wouldn’t have time then. Stiles had to be on the A-word duty and make sure his best friend wasn’t too anxious about the A-word being back in town.

Stiles easily lost six hours of his afternoon poring over all kinds of information. The internet was wily like that, one minute you’re looking up animal corpses and then the next thing you find yourself in the sketchy wilds of the internetdom, carefully picking your way through ritual sacrifices to call the Elder Gods and recipes you and your fellow Satanic cult members will surely love when the next monthly rite of what-the-fuck occurs. That was not including the porn either.

“Dude, what the hell are you reading?” Scott’s face was equal parts repulsed, and fascinated in that oh-god-I-can’t-look-away-I’m-about-to-die-because-I-looked-into-the-Arc-Indy-was-right way! Stiles tapped out of three dozen tabs and stretched kinks out of his back.

“Don’t worry about it, just trying to keep us on our A game in case of random weirdness. You know the saying, hope for the best, prepare for the worst,” he shrugged.

“No. I just remember that the grasshopper dying because the ant wouldn’t share with him made me really, really sad as a kid,” Scott declared, making Stiles laugh and throw his arm across his shoulders. He led him downstairs where they demolished a huge portion of the Stilinski food stock, including the junk food Stiles really had hidden for the occasion. His dad didn’t have a huge sweet tooth but he didn’t want to encourage any bad eating habits.

They migrated out to the living room, arguing over the remote for 45 minutes while they extolled the virtues of their preferred programming. Scott was really into terrible, terrible shows as far as Stiles was concerned (really, c’mon, Vampire Diaries was a rather questionable life choice). Scott refused to watch any more Criminal Minds as it disturbed him and made him kinda sad. They compromised on watching more Battlestar Galactica on DVD. Eventually they made their way back upstairs to Stiles’ room.

"Derek came to see me last night," Scott admitted in a faraway sort of tone, keeping himself occupied by rolling the Hershey kiss wrappers into a bigger and bigger ball of silver.

“Kind of an awkward segue dude,” Stiles pointed out, though his ears perked up regardless. He spun around to face Scott from his desk chair, chewing on the end of a sour straw. "So what did tall, dark and brooding want?"

Scott frowned, a little perplexed over something. "Derek says that there's an Alpha pack that's coming for him. Us. All of us. I thought maybe he’d come over here too since you were researching all that gory stuff.”

“Um no?” Unable to help himself, Stiles sat up like a hunting dog catching the whiff of a scent. "An Alpha pack? How does that even work? How can you have more than one Alpha? I thought the Alpha was the leader with the Terminator eyes and the attitude? You can't have a bunch of leaders and no followers, think of how badly it would go if like, the entire lacrosse team was populated by Jacksons!!"

"Stiles! I don't know!" Scott huffed out, looking frazzled. "He said I have to join up with his pack to protect myself. And you."

He rolled his eyes. "Not that I don't appreciate the radical change from systematically turning me into one big bruise into someone almost resembling a person with feelings-" Okay, even in Stiles' mind he knew that was entirely too harsh. "-well, you know what I mean but I don't see you joining his pack, ever."

"I know, right?" Scott stood up, pacing the length of Stiles' room. "I mean, I've made it this far on my own, right? I have you-"

"And I am certifiably awesome."

"-and now that my mom knows about it all, I don't have that hanging over my head. I survived. I was the one that figured out how to stop Gerard. Well... Dr. Deaton helped a lot," he admitted.

Stiles hid a twitch. He didn't want to feel betrayed by that... but he kind of did. He didn't like the fact Scott had hid something from him and for so long- it was very unScott like. Scott wore his heart on his sleeve and he should continue to do so.

"So, you're going to tell him no then," he pointed out, swiveling in his chair to face his computer. He might be able to get a good Team Fortress game going before he logged into WoW.

"Kind of." Scott’s brow was still furrowed in indecision, glancing up at Stiles from under too long dark curls.

"What? But you just said-"

"I know what I just said but... I got to thinking... like, y'know about stuff. About how it felt when we were all on the same side, all together. It was brief but... it worked," He licked his lips. There was something going on in Scott’s head. Stiles appreciated that Scott was looking past the horrible stuff and saw something good out of the whole mess. He was a bit more skeptical than that- and maybe a little bitter. Stiles had figured that his brain could save him if he was just clever enough. He wasn’t strong even for a human so his mind was what he had to rely on.

So it made him bitter and restless to know that it hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been enough. Too much of last year was spent running in circles. Too many people died because he couldn’t see the forest for the trees. But he didn’t let that out. Didn’t let out his frustration and fears. Nope. Stiles’ mouth was already running itself on autopilot. “You mean when Derek and his misfit toys stopped hitting me in the head with car starters? I am still not over that. I could have brain damage you know. Serious brain damage.”

“Like anyone could tell,” Scott smirked, shoving his shoulder at Stiles when he dropped gracelessly by the werewolf on his bed. Then he sobered. “Look, I told him I’d come and listen to what he wants, okay... and I thought you should come. Too. Cuz... well, you’d come anyways.” Scott looked like he was grateful for that and Stiles scoffed, even as he chuffed inwardly.

“Of course I would, someone has to be the brains. Seriously, it’s sad that the dude who gets whacked upside the head a lot has more observational skill than the rest of you. Clearly karma thought I’d be too badass a werewolf that night. Ahhh, remember when we were just kids looking for scares in the woods?” He reminisced, throwing his arm over Scott’s shoulder. He snorted and shook his head, peering up with big brown eyes.

“He wants us to come over um... tonight.”

“Seriously dude? Ugh,” Stiles curled up a lip. Now that did throw a wrench in the works. Even though his dad was... relatively okay with his son’s best friend being a werewolf, he was still in overprotective dad mode from it all. His dad tended to waffle between ignoring the whole notion of it like he stuffed it all in a big box and labeled it ‘NOPE’ and grabbing Stiles up randomly and telling him that he was proud of him.

And got him shooting lessons. 

So getting out of the house, even while his dad was at work, to go out to the old Hale house was going to be... complicated. But Stiles wasn’t a Stilinski for no reason, they thrived on a challenge. “Right then, you call Derek and I’ll figure out how to get us out there.”

*********

Despite the damaged structure and all the little reminders of a horrible choice with horrible consequences, Derek still considered the house to be his home. It hadn’t been a home, not in the traditional sense, for years. The roof was nearly nonexistent, the floors creaked with each step, ready to give way at any moment, and the lingering smell of smoke and burnt wood made the air thick with regret and memories that reminded him to never trust easily and always be suspicious.

If the home itself didn’t hammer those things into his brain, the current company had surely done so.

Scott was someone he wanted to trust. He had wanted to trust him desperately at first, had wanted the family he’d lost dozens of times over. Scott, however, had proven (as much as the Hale’s family home remains had) that you couldn’t trust people no matter how badly you wanted to. Across the room from him was Peter, the only remaining family he had left, who had taught the same lesson. At least with Peter, he knew the deal and understood the score. Peter was unstable. He might’ve had the right investments, but the reasons were always skewed.

The scrawny human that hadn’t stopped pacing since they’d arrived was another story entirely. Stiles was annoying on a good day and downright intolerable on a bad one. He was irritating, a complete spaz, and always seemed to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. The most annoying thing about Stiles, if Derek had to pick only one thing, was that he was the most honest of all the people he’d come to know. He pushed all his buttons, he riled up his wolf, and didn’t sugarcoat anything even when Derek could smell the fear coming off him in loud, obnoxious waves. If he had to pick someone in that room he felt he could trust... it would’ve been Stiles.

Too bad Stiles was attached to Scott at the hip.

“The children are getting restless,” Peter’s voice still held that amused and mocking note that it had ever since he’d gone berserker. Or had it always been there and Derek hadn’t noticed? Maybe he hadn’t wanted to.

Derek cut a glance to Peter but refused to have that particular discussion. “I need you, even if it’s just until the Alphas are dealt with, to join the pack.”

Scott blinked, tilted his head. “You said that already. But you haven’t said why they’re here or anything.”

“That’s what that graffiti out on the house isn’t it?” Stiles piped up. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at Derek but then flicking them at Peter. He didn’t realize it, but he shuffled slightly away from the older man. “That’s a warning or something, not a bad attempt at sprucing up this place. Although if a spruce did start growing in here, it wouldn’t surprise me. Actually, do spruces grow in this part of America? Also where’s Isaac? Shouldn’t your puppy be around for this kind of ‘and now we shall become one’ discussion?”

“How nice to see that so little’s changed about you Stiles,” Peter murmured, sounding amused even as he enjoyed the flinch in the boy’s shoulders.

Derek had no choice but to sigh. “Shut up, Stiles.” He possibly rolled his eyes a bit, too, but Stiles was Stiles and really did evoke such reactions whether he intended to or not.

But that wasn’t the answer they were looking for, was it? A stab of mistrust kept his lips from opening to offer up an answer. He and Scott had been down that road before, the one where he gave him information and trusted him only to have Scott do his own thing. That was probably why he turned to Stiles instead of Scott when he finally answered with anything at all. “Alphas are here to challenge the current alpha. Any time a new alpha presence is sensed, they migrate and move toward it.”

“And you need all the extra juice you can get, that’s it isn’t it?” Stiles replied, pursing his lips as he considered what a ‘challenge’ might entail with werewolves. Probably lots of snarling and filing their claws while talking badly about each other’s mothers. Derek didn’t have Erica and Boyd, he was down to Isaac and Peter. Stiles might be a human but the Hales had had human members of their pack before.

“I don’t want to be involved with this. You’re not my Alpha,” Scott insisted stubbornly but Stiles flicked his gaze away from his friend, as if he wasn’t sure that was the right response. It sounded a little too much like ‘you’re not my real dad’ even to Stiles’ ears and he wondered if that’s what drove Scott more than even Derek’s spectacular decision making abilities. Scott had some pretty killer ones himself after all.

“The truth is, the Alphas aren’t really going to care that you’re not ‘with us’ Scott,” Peter stepped in. “Just like the Argents, they’re going to treat you like a threat. Wouldn’t it be better to know that your mother was... safe?”

“Creeper much?” There was definitely some shaming in that comment, not that Peter would care, but sometimes the whole crazy uncle bit was a bit too much. 

Derek was fairly certain these negotiations were going to flop even harder than they already were, but that hint of disagreement coming off of Stiles was definitely something he filed away in the back of his head for later use. “It’s not just about getting more power,” he said just as carefully as he’d said anything else that evening. “It’s about solidarity for all of us, wolf and human alike.”

He turned one more time to Peter with the disapproving scowl. “Everyone needs to be safe from all threats right now.”

Peter’s eyes twinkled merrily (with evil Stiles was certain) but he merely he spread his hands peacefully without comment.

Stiles’ gaze was heavy on Derek’s face, expression not giving away his thoughts for once. He was searching for something, uncertain if he could believe that the werewolf actually meant that or if he was manipulating them. It didn’t feel like it this time- other times, yeah. That had been why he didn’t like or trust Derek at all when they first met him. Stiles’ instincts hadn’t really led him wrong ever. He opened his mouth to say something more but then Scott was butting in again.

“Yeah? And how are you going to do that, huh? Attack anything that moves? Try to kill people without proof? Go around biting anyone that’s dumb enough to let you?! Something you did made this happen, made my family vulnerable, I don’t see why I should help clean up your mess!” Scott was on the edge of hysteria and Stiles moved over to him.

“Dude, calm down-” Scott shoved Stiles away from him unthinkingly- his strength sending him smacking against the wall.

Peter’s blank expression was actually a telling one and Derek moved between Stiles and Scott, his attention on his fellow werewolf. “I am trying to make it right.” That was the best clarification Scott was going to get from him on any subject, especially the current one. “Maybe you should listen to your friend and calm down before you give him any more brain damage than he already has.”

Stiles scowled at Derek, clearly ready to retort something but before the exchange could deteriorate any worse, Isaac burst through the front door. “Derek, there’s something out there.” His eyes were bright gold, body twitching with restrained instincts to either go hunt or hide. “I can’t tell if it’s one of the Alpha pack or something else but I heard it, not even 3 miles away.”

He paused in his reporting in to flick a glance to Scott and smiled tentatively at him.

Derek pointedly ignored the curling up of Isaac’s mouth at the sight of Scott. There was no use in denying that Scott had an empathy Derek simply didn’t and that empathy was something that made Scott a good choice to have his own pack. Doubt, doubt, doubt; it was something the Alpha wolf simply didn’t have time for. 

“Stay here with Peter and keep S-” He stopped himself because, yes, he was really going to say Stiles instead of them. “Keep them safe. I’ll go see about cleaning up my mess.”

Scott glared, misinterpreting the cut off order. “I don’t need to be kept safe!”

“Dude that-” Stiles interjected, trying to call out that Derek ought to take people with him but he was already gone, leaving them all frustrated.

“... shall we play cards then?” Peter asked, looking genial.

*******

Scott and Stiles had stayed as late as they dared at the Hale house but Derek didn’t come back before they gave up for the night, near two a.m. Isaac seemed disappointed that they just wouldn’t stay over but who wouldn’t be disappointed when you were left alone with creepy Uncle Pedo?

Scott offered to let him crash at his house and he seemed tempted for a moment before he declined. His loyalty to the pack and Derek was cemented pretty obviously.

Isaac wasn’t working a few days later when they went in to see Deaton, making Scott worry briefly about it until Stiles pointed out that they had come on his day off. They had no guarantees that he wasn’t eavesdropping but they lived in a town of werewolves, you did the best you could. Scott approached Deaton first despite the fact Stiles was all but rocking back and forth and bouncing up and down on his heels, looking ready to explode.

Deaton’s lips quirked up in the corner but he faced Scott head on. “Something I can do for you boys?”

Scott nodded, grateful. “Uh, yeah actually. Um... so Derek-”

That was as far as he got. “Derek is demanding that we-” Stiles’ arm flailed between himself and Scott as he took over. “-jump into his pack again. Well mostly Scott but still, he’s all growly and authoritative about it and it has something to do with an Alpha pack. But does he say anything about what that means? Nooo, of course not! That, that would be helpful and not at all mysterious and Batman-like. He’s very Batman in the way he uses his words. By uses, I mean the opposite of. So, we need to know if the Alpha pack is really a threat, what it is, how we stop them or get them to go away and, and, and stuff about werewolves that’s real!” He finished off, hands slapping down on the counter, looking determined and unwilling to take any more close-mouthed explanations.

Deaton was quiet for a moment, considering. “I can do that for you. I will tell you what I know and I also have some resources for you, Mr. Stilinski,” he encouraged, chuckling softly at the gleam in the skinny young man’s eyes. “An Alpha pack is... something of a misnomer. It’s not a pack like Derek and his betas have. It is more like a temporarily formed, typically smaller pack at the behest of Alphas in the general area.”

“So... like, some wolves from each pack join up to... what?” Scott piped up, tilting his head. “Test them?”

“In a sense, yes. They need to see if another pack in their area is a threat and if they are, to take them out. Alpha packs do form from the Alphas of the packs involved and sometimes one or two of their trusted betas. If an Alpha pack comes after a pack, it’s never a good sign. It usually means that pack is out of control,” Deaton admitted, watching Stiles and Scott’s faces. Scott looked pensive but Stiles was unamused.

“What like a pack of teenaged werewolves running around acting like idiots while a kanima kills a lot of people? Think that might grab their attention?” Stiles rubbed a hand over his face.

“Okay so how do we get them not to kill us? Is there something we can do?” Scott was, as ever, willing to desperately look for the nonviolent solution. Stiles could appreciate that about him but somehow he doubted that werewolves were really the peaceful, hippie types. Just the thought of Derek Hale in a tie-dye shirt with a flower crown on his head was enough to have Stiles’ brain stop working for a full minute and a half.

“Well, I know you don’t want to hear this... but joining Derek’s pack is actually the safest thing you could all do,” Deaton pointed out as kindly as he could manage, placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder.

“You mean the one with the murderous psychopath? Why does everyone forget that part? Peter freaking Hale anyone? Killing people and then bam! Fresh as a daisy and no one says anything?” Stiles demanded, glaring at Deaton hotly. But it wasn’t Deaton he was most frustrated with- it was Derek. Derek was someone that, okay, yeah he could be a real asshole but he wasn’t a murderer. And he had a sense of responsibility and honor. He’d saved Scott time and again- times when Derek had been trying to be selfish, to gain what he wanted... and then he didn’t do. He chose to help people- save people like Stiles. So what the hell?

Deaton’s brown eyes were steady and knowing, uncomfortably so. “You’re saying something Mr. Stilinski. And Derek needs people like you and Scott around him. You both know that it’s more dangerous for you to be divided right now. There is a phrase I’m afraid that fits quite accurately here... the devil you do know is better than the devil you don’t. I’m not saying trust Peter. I’m saying you need to trust your own judgments.”

Scott lifted his head, nodding quietly. “You’re right. I have my family to protect. It doesn’t matter why, or whose fault it is all this stuff is going on. I just have to protect my friends and my mom and I can’t do that alone.”

Stiles’ mind instantly flashed to his father and he sobered. He had to do this too for the same reasons Scott had. He didn’t like it. In fact he hated the way Derek ran things. But Deaton was right- in order to survive an Alpha pack, they had to stop fighting amongst themselves. That’s what had made them so vulnerable during the kanima situation.

“Hey doc, what do you know about animals eating organs?” Stiles piped up as Scott started to help the vet start working on some of the patients of the actual four legged kind rather than whatever werewolf showed up bleeding on his doorstep. It wasn’t Scott’s scheduled work day but he did it anyway, smoothing his hand over the small, frightened fluffball’s head. Whatever it was, it kinda looked like a pillow with legs.

“Organs? Well, organs are full of vitamins and nutrients, things that predators are naturally drawn towards. Generally speaking, wolves eat the entire animal they have killed, including the bones.” He paused as Scott wrinkled his nose and Stiles wondered if he was remembering crunching down on Bugs Bunny. He didn’t really want to know and yet-

“So, leaving a hollowed out body with only the organs missing isn’t the typical behavior of a predator?” Stiles pressed.

“I would have to say no, it’s not the usual behavior. There can be other factors, such as a ready supply of food in the area but that’s not why you’re asking, is it,” Deaton observed, glancing up from where he was gently checking the small dog for progress in healing after surgery.

Stiles shook his head. “No. I just... I think something’s out there. Not like the kanima but... something.”

Scott frowned heavily, a preoccupied expression on his face. Stiles felt bad for mentioning it then- knowing that it was adding to the ever growing pile of worries on his head. That was the last thing he wanted to happen. “Never mind. It’s probably just my imagination running off with me.”

But Deaton didn’t relax. He simply watched Stiles until the younger man had to turn away from those meditative eyes.

**********

Stiles was gifted with a couple old books that he gleefully took from Deaton not even a day later. He was determined to figure out a better solution to this Alpha problem than anything Derek could come up with (and ran off on a tangent of what he’d do if he was an Alpha that Scott tuned out of rather quickly). It wasn’t that he didn’t care about Stiles’ opinions, he was just focused on the fact he’d caught a hint of Allison’s scent early in the morning and had been debating on whether to follow it for most of the day.

He managed to resist his instincts until lunchtime, Isaac giving him confused looks through the day. Any time he tried to talk to Scott, he was just too distracted to keep up with the conversation. Scott ended up offering to go on a lunch run for everyone and when he was given the clear, he shot out the door.

It didn’t take long to track her down- she was at the grocery store, carrying out a lot of groceries- he could smell the fresh fruits and vegetables and warm, recently cooked bread- like she was stocking up. Good, that meant she was sticking around didn’t it? Scott found himself following her discreetly.

He hated to see how distant she looked. It wasn’t like it was completely obvious, though. She still smiled and thanked the cashier and she let Mrs. St. James waylay her with questions about her family as she held the door open for the elderly woman. She looked normal, acted it, but Scott could almost feel in his chest how wrong it all was.

Her eyes were so off, there wasn’t any happiness or joy. That was one of things he’d love best about Allison was how she was so interested in what was going on around her. She loved to try everything once, as evidenced by how many hobbies she’d picked up at various times, and she had always been willing to be there for people. She seemed so solitary and alone by her car that it broke Scott’s heart and he was starting for her before he realized it.

Her head jerked up and locked eyes with him and suddenly she was the Allison that had been full of emotion again... but none of them were soft or tender-hearted. She was staring at him like the world was burning down around her and she didn’t know how to stop it.

“Allison,” The word was ripped from his lips and he started forward again- only to notice finally that she had a gun hidden against her thigh, next to the car door. All the times she’d had her bow, it had never been because of Scott. Now it was a warning to him that he shouldn’t come any closer, the motion instinctive. She looked so much like her Aunt Kate it stole his breath.

She shuddered and before he could react any further, she ducked into her car and drove away. Scott watched her with hungry eyes, his chest constricting so tightly he began to wheeze with it. It physically hurt to see her like this, to know that he couldn’t stop her from being in pain.

It was only when he got back to the vet clinic that he realized he’d forgotten to get any food at all.

*****************

When Scott got home that evening, tired and sort of run down (Allison had made it pretty clear her feelings in the grocery parking lot and it wasn’t like he could go up and ring the doorbell to her house), he somehow wasn’t really surprised to see Derek sitting in the chair in the corner of his room. It was just that kind of day.

“Seriously dude? Stiles is right to call you a creeper,” He complained, pouting a little bit as he tossed his bag onto his bed. Derek simply gave him one of those imperious looks that demanded that Scott start speaking first.

“I know, you’re here to get my answer about joining your pack,” he took a breath, looking up at the ceiling. “We will. Both of us- me and Stiles.”

The look on Derek’s face was a little hard to read but Scott pressed on. “But if I’m joining you, I just want you to know that you can’t do the stuff you’ve been doing. You can’t turn anyone else. I don’t care if they ask, you just can’t do it. We have enough trouble right now without adding people who could get hurt or killed.”

“Trying to strengthen the ties that are already made is my focus right now, Scott.” It was a moment or two before he responded, waiting to see if Scott was finally done with his list of demands. It felt so much like before... not as easy, but definitely the same song and dance he really didn’t trust wasn’t going to be thrown back in his face in the worst possible way.

“No killing- I mean it!” he insisted, rubbing his hands over his head, dark hair getting fluffed up. “It’s not like we have a good track record on that anyways! Peter came back, Jackson came back and they never found Gerard’s body. So... maybe we could try something else?”

Another rule, but what choice did Derek have? “I’ll agree to that only if, in a situation that demands a permanent solution you can come up with something foolproof and 100% effective that won’t land us in more crap than we’re already in.” He was sure he didn’t have to remind him of the kanima mess all over again.

Scott nodded his head. He could accept that- the only thing that had saved Jackson was the connection he’d shared with Lydia, something that no one had really clued into beside Peter. They wouldn’t always have that option in the future.

“Also- no one goes after Allison,” Scott insisted quietly but with a fierce devotion that made yellow lick at his eyes. “She’s a hunter but she’s off limits. If you go after her, I go after you. Got it?”

“Make sure she gets that same message,” he warned, gaze unreadable. “I don’t need to go after anyone as long as they’re leaving me the hell alone.” Surely he wasn’t going to have to remind him about that situation as well. “Any other points of interest? Washing your ass maybe after a hard day at school or massaging Stiles’ feet while he reads monster bestiaries?”

Scott blinked, snorting out a soft laugh, lips twitching with amusement in spite of the conversation. “Stiles would probably like that actually but you wouldn’t. He’s got some monkey toes that’ll dig into you. Trust me.” 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Scott met Derek’s eyes and went on. “I know you’re trying to do right by what you think is best, I’m just saying that sometimes what you think isn’t always. I’m not trying to be an Alpha. I’m not trying to be anything but me. I do want this to work. I want Beacon Hills to be safe and maybe I could have something like a normal life again.”

“I can’t guarantee a normal life, not with the friends you choose.” Derek stood up and moved back towards the open window, pausing long enough to look over his shoulder and say one last thing. “Making Beacon Hills safe is a shared goal, Scott. That’s all this is about.”


	3. In Which Things Begin to Happen (by Which We Mean Bloody Things)

John Stilinski had been on the police force of Beacon Hills for going on twenty years, had been a patrolman fresh out of school when he met his future wife. He’d been Sheriff for seven of those years and despite Beacon Hills being a sleepy little town that was supposed to be idyllic and charming, he’d never been fooled into thinking nothing could go on. They had murders, rapes, domestic violence... almost the whole spectrum of terrible things that people could do to one another. It might not have happened as frequently as in other places, but he accepted that there was nowhere perfect and nowhere safe (despite occasionally wanting to pack up his son and send him to his sister-in-law’s place in Wisconsin).

Even so, these last two years were really wearing on him. His son’s best friend was... he could barely bring himself to think it. But he’d seen it. He’d been shown by the pair of them, watching him with such wary, uncertain expressions it broke his heart. John had never, ever wanted to see that look on his son’s face... like Stiles couldn’t trust him. John’d known he was hiding something- he was his father, no one knew Stiles better than he did- but... that.

He’d yelled. It had been a natural instinct to do so. He’d been terrified- hell, he was still terrified to realize his son (his intelligent, resourceful, _sneaky_ , good-hearted son) had been running around dealing with things that John could never have prepared him for. And Stiles had stood up to him for it. Not joking or making excuses- he’d just told John flat out that he did it because he had to. To be there for Scott and their friends.

Sonya would’ve been so proud of him and John had been too. And wanted to throttle him for giving him more reasons to wonder what he’d find when he came home night after night.

“-repeat, we have a 419,” the voice on his scanner broke through his thoughts and John scrambled for the receiver to acknowledge he’d received the call. It was, not surprisingly anymore, near the Preserve. John had a moment’s misgiving, tempted to place a call to Stiles just to hear his voice and make sure... but he didn’t.

It didn’t take him long to get there, the patrol car joining its brethren as his officers surrounded what looked like the remains of a dead body.

Part of him was terrified that on one of these calls it was going to be Stiles or Scott and he felt a stab of guilt when he was relieved that it wasn’t anyone that his department could identify off the bat. Although given the savaged nature of the body, that didn’t mean that it wasn’t still possible.

“-get everything documented and try to keep this out of the papers for as long as we can. I don’t want gawkers coming up here,” He finished off tiredly to his troops. The paper had been less than admiring of John’s performance as of late. He couldn’t blame them really.

Rubbing his forehead, he froze. Lifting his head, he peered out into the woods, a frisson of _something_ going down his spine. Whatever did that to the body had to have been long gone and yet he was still picking his way carefully through the underbrush.

John finally let himself consider if it could be... a werewolf. What if one of their kind had rend the body so thoroughly? They had claws. They had superior strength, according to Stiles. Something inhuman easily could have done that, especially considering the previous attacks he’d come across in the last couple years. But what could he do about it? If he arrested one of them, how the hell would he hold them? How would he charge them? Could he even catch one?

There were too many questions and not enough answers for him, the hairs on the back of John’s neck standing up straight with the feeling of being watched.

“Sheriff! Sheriff, we’ve got the coroner here, you still want to talk to him?”

“... yeah. I’m coming!” Shaking his head, John turned back to the crime scene while a clawed hand, massive and deformed, scraped against the rock cropping barely a foot away from where he’d been standing.

*****************

Stiles had found out about the dead body early the next morning- partly due to bugging his dad all morning long for information in general... and partly because John had woken him up at 8 a.m. In the _summer_. To go shooting.

He had tried pointing out that the shooting range would be open later on in the day too but his dad ignored that. “We’ll get breakfast at Millie’s afterwards. C’mon kiddo,” he urged.

Stiles perked up despite himself. “Can I get chocolate chip pancakes?”

“If you want.”

“With whipped cream!”

“Mmmhmm.”

“In a happy face?”

“Stiles!”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming. Jeez, you’re so grouchy in the morning,” He grinned shamelessly at his father as he finished tying his shoes and scrambling towards the door. John rolled his eyes but Stiles could see the twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips.

The Beacon Hills Shooting Range had been at the edge of town forever and a day- before there was an edge of town really, when it used to be out in a field. The city had grown up to butt against it but thanks to some zoning laws, hadn’t surrounded it or anything. It was probably because there had always been a steady stream of trappers and hunters that came through the area when hunting season was open. Idly he wondered what the Hales had thought of people traipsing through their woods, killing animals. Was that like raiding their fridge uninvited?

“C’mere you delinquent,” John waved Stiles over to him after registering them both at the counter with Bob, chatting comfortably for a few moments.

“You call me that and yet you’re handing me a live weapon,” He pointed out. He was a little nervous. Not a lot- his father had had a gun all his life and had shown it to him as a precociously inquisitive kid. Shown him what made it work, how to clean it, how to tell if the safety was on or off. John knew his son and had instilled a very healthy respect for guns in Stiles from the get go.

Despite all that, Stiles had never really expressed an interest in learning how to shoot. After all, he could play _Call of Duty_ with no recoil, no clean up and no ringing eardrums.

“Alright, pay attention,” John ordered Stiles sternly, guiding him to stand at the line. “Plant your feet firmly, facing towards the target but turn your hips 45 degrees away. You there? Good.” He stepped back, making sure that Stiles would stay still and do as instructed.

“That’s to keep you balanced in a fight. That’s what I’m teaching you here, more than anything else. You want to keep your shoulders a bit forward,” John placed his hands on Stiles’ to guide them a little more. “This will help with the recoil and it’ll keep your body weight behind the gun.”

Stepping to the side to checking his stance, John gave a nod. “That’s good. Now, when you’re not firing the gun, even when you’re just aiming, you never have your finger on the trigger. Got it?”

Stiles gave a little sheepish expression that puzzled him but he nodded. “Got it dad. I should put it here?” He moved his finger down to the flat of the gun. John nodded.

“Yeah, that works just fine.” He moved back behind Stiles and peered at the target some distance away. Not a huge length, but enough that Stiles could get the idea of what he needed to do. “Alright, aiming. When you aim a gun always be aware of what you are targeting and what is behind it- bullets don’t always stop where you think they do. Also, because air resistance and gravity’ll pull down the bullet, you’ll have to adjust your aim a little higher the further your target is away from you. You ready to try it out?”

Stiles bobbed his head and chewed on his lip. “Yeah sure. Yeah, yeah, I can... yup.” He swallowed nervously, reminding himself that practicing shooting a gun did not mean he was actually going to be shooting anyone.

“Don’t think too much kiddo, just take a breath, steady yourself and fire. That’s all you have to do,” John assured him. Stiles still seemed nervous but he was determined and John briefly wondered if he should’ve taught this to Stiles much sooner. He hadn’t wanted to, for many reasons including the fact his son hadn’t been all that responsible before.

Actually that wasn’t true. Much as he wanted to rip his hair out over some of Stiles’ antics, especially school related shenanigans, he had to admit Stiles had been almost raising himself for the past six years. It had been the worst right after Sonya died when John could barely bring himself to care exactly how much frosted wheat (Sonya had been trying to take care of John’s heart long before Stiles started) his son was eating. Up until Stiles plopped a bowl down in front of him and said breakfasts were the most important meal of the day. A ten year old never should feel like they had to take care of their own parent and John regretted that.

“Oh shit, I totally hit it!” Stiles’ voice broke through his thoughts, surprised and delighted.

John smiled. “Yeah you did but where were you aiming?”

“Why you gotta be like that? I winged him, I should totally get points for that,” he argued.

“You don’t get points if you get shot in return,” John pointed out smartly.

“I can’t argue with you there,” Stiles admitted. Even if the hunters used wolfsbane bullets instead of live ammo, he doubted it would matter much to his body when it was full of holes. Ugh.

So he lined up another shot, letting his dad coach him through it. Eventually Stiles started to get the hang of it consistently. He was actually hitting the target more often than not and his shots were hitting where he was aiming them or at least in the same general area. When he paused to eject the second clip, he heard another newb getting instructions from one of the regulars.

“Hold it like this?” Waitasec. That was Lydia’s voice!

Stiles scrambled away from where his dad was shooting to peer around the divider. She looked so out of place but adorably so in her stacked heels, and polka-dotted, pale green summer dress (he assumed it was a summer dress as it was, in fact summer). He grinned foolishly for a second before his eyes eventually landed on her instructor. Who was definitely not one of the old guys that frequented the range.

He was young and dark haired, maybe a couple years older than them at most, lanky tall in his build but not without some muscle tone and Stiles felt his hackles rise. He was smirking down at Lydia with a smirky, weasely face. Okay, not that weasely. Actually, objectively speaking he was probably hot. Actually given the way Lydia wasn’t totally shutting him down, he was definitely hot.

Fuck.

“- so once you get real shoes, not those death traps, you’ll have a better idea of where you need to aim. Unless you’re trying to just look like you know what you’re doing,” he pointed out, hands on her shoulders as he peered out towards the target. He leaned in closer, hands stroking over her arms and firming up her stance.

“Hey Lydia!”

Lydia’s shot went wild and she clutched at her chest, clearly startled. “STILES!”

He grinned like a wince. “Man, that was not good at all. Hey, I’m sure your... friend here is just trying to help but getting someone who knows what they’re doing to help you out is way, way safer,” he pointed out, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Douchebag hottie smirked again and glanced over Stiles curiously. “You familiar with the basics?” he asked, like he had trouble believing that Stiles would be capable of tying his own shoes.

“Actually yeah, want me to show you?”

“Stiles! Look, I appreciate the whole insecure, macho pissing contest over my affections- no really, it’s totally not been done to _death_ or anything- but I’m not here to do anything but learn how to shoot. And you might _both_ want to consider the fact that I might accidentally slip and miss my paper targets and hit... other things,” She smiled viciously and Stiles was torn between being turned on and a tiny bit intimidated.

The other boy whistled and laughed. “I’m not interested in that way, kid, trust me.” Lydia bristled. “I just recognize you from-”

“Ev!” Stiles’ head jerked up in surprise as Allison hurried towards them, shouldering what looked like a sniper rifle. That was... really scary if he let himself think about it combined with the fact Allison was already basically a real life Kate Bishop (although with less money and more murderous impulses). “Ev I didn’t notice you’d wandered off.”

Lydia cocked a brow and Allison smiled tightly. “Sorry, guys, this is my cousin, Everett James. He’s staying with me and my dad for the summer.”

“Like I was saying. I recognized you from Ally’s photos,” Ev smiled, dimpling his cheeks. Ugh.

But then something occurred to Stiles that was more important than Lydia having a summer fling- if Ev was Allison’s cousin... he was probably a hunter. His eyes flicked up to Allison’s but she was blank faced. Shitshitshit. He was. He was definitely a hunter.

His eyes darted over the other boy’s, taking in his relaxed stance. “So! Is your family staying with Ally too?” he piped up brightly.

Ev’s eyes flicked back, narrowing at Stiles. “Nah. Just me.”

Lying. Definitely lying... or they weren’t there yet. “Too bad. Probably kinda lonely. Maybe you, me and Scott should hang out sometime,” he offered, ignoring Allison’s flinch at Scott’s name. She was uncomfortable? Good. Her grandfather beat him and she didn’t do a damn thing to stop it.

“Um, am I missing something here?” Lydia demanded, sounding testy, green eyes narrowed venomously.

“Couldn’t say for certain. How 'bout you, _Ally_?” Stiles smiled at her, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Nothing I can think of,” She replied low and steady. When she glanced over at Lydia she softened, a little guilty. “Nothing that I want to talk about right now or in public.”

“So invite her over for dinner,” Ev piped up like no one needed ever. Stiles opened his mouth as Lydia perked up.

“That’d be great! I’m dying for any excuse not to be at my house any more than necessary. I mean, for Pet-... for goodness’ sake, it’s the summer, I should barely know what my bedroom looks like!” Lydia declared, going for a forced kind of cheerfulness.

“Stiles! Get back over here!”

Cussing up a storm under his breath, Stiles darted off despite wanting to stick around to warn Lydia about Allison and the Argents. Lydia might be human but that certain didn’t stop the truly crazy ass hunters, now did it?

*******

Stiles was in manic research mode the next time Scott called him up only a day later, relating the information about the dead body and running into Allison and her hunter cousin. Scott could understand how he felt- it made his gut twist up with guilt, wondering how he might’ve stopped the poor guy from getting killed if he’d known more. It weighed kind of heavy on his thoughts most of the day, pushing the thought of Allison to the back of his mind despite the reminder.

“Scott, Isaac, I’m leaving now,” Deaton called out, coming into the back, holding a small envelope. “Don’t forget to check on the Morrison’s chihuahua, Peanut. He doesn’t do well if there’s not at least one light left on for him.”

“I’ve got it,” Isaac set aside the broom and slunk off to the back. He really was good with the animals, especially the injured or scared ones and Scott found that he really enjoyed having someone else around his age to talk to.

“Oh Scott, your mom dropped this off for you. Said it came in the mail and she didn’t want you to miss it when she went to the hospital for the overnight shift,” Deaton continued, handing Scott the envelope, smiling warmly. “Good night boys.”

“Sure, night Doc,” Scott waved but his attention was caught by the return address on the front of the card. _Robert McCall_. His heart skipped in his chest as he ripped the envelope open, a piece of paper and a photo tumbling out. Bending over, Scott scooped them both off the floor, finding himself staring long and hard at the photo in his hand.

“Who’s that?” Scott started when he felt Isaac peer over his shoulder.

“That’s my dad and my- his son,” He admitted. The little dark haired boy was grinning brightly over the top of a cake that had an enormous 3 candle perched on top of it, his dad looking so proud and fond. Scott frowned, swallowing.

“You mean your brother?” Isaac reached around him to tilt the picture better, his arm brushing Scott’s shoulder. “You look a lot like your dad.”

He could feel his teeth elongating in his mouth so Scott quickly shoved the picture behind the note. “I guess. No. I mean, he’s my half brother. My dad left my mom for his mom. I haven’t... I haven’t seen him before.” His dad had invited him out. Hell, he’d offered to take him with his new pregnant wife when he announced he was moving down to San Diego the summer before sophomore year when he got a great job offer. Better than anything Beacon Hills could offer him, he’d said to Scott, all smiles and excitement. Better than the family he already had, the life they’d all had together, he hadn’t said - not aloud anyways.

He’d never really wondered what it would’ve been like if he’d gone with his dad instead of sticking around Beacon Hills. He wouldn’t be a werewolf but he also never would have met Allison.

Isaac was quiet, watching Scott as he swallowed hard, scanning the note. It was the same old, same old. Inviting him to come down, telling him that Jamie was eager to meet his big brother. Scott doubted it, it was just a guilt trip.

“I had a big brother,” Isaac announced quietly. “His name was Kevin, he was about eight years older than us but he was really... he was great. I mean really- everyone loved him. He was the star of the swim team at Beacon Hills High. He wanted to be a professional swimmer, like in the Olympics,” he hunched up his shoulders, hands tucked into his pockets. “So he trained a lot. My dad was really hard on him but it was like that’s what he needed to be amazing. He still made time for me though.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Scott frowned, trying to picture the Lahey house when Derek had dragged him there, to make him understand about Isaac’s family life. He hadn’t seen any pictures of Kevin. Or Isaac’s mom come to think of it. “What happened?”

Isaac was still looking at the floor. “Car crash. Some drunk. He was two weeks from graduating. My parents-” His breathing hitched and he trembled. Instinctively Scott brushed closer, letting Isaac lean heavily against his side. “They were different after that. It was worse when my mom left though. She couldn’t handle it. Or my dad-...”

Scott felt helpless. He couldn’t change what had happened to Isaac’s family or his own. He couldn’t do anything at all to fix it. “I’m still angry he did that to my mom,” he admitted.

“Me too,” Isaac nodded. 

They stood close together for a while, silently caught up in their own heads. Scott wished he and Stiles had noticed Isaac sooner. Helped him out. Him and Erica and then when Boyd moved to Beacon Hills in freshman year, they should’ve offered to let him join them too. They might’ve been nerds and dorks but they could’ve all been friends. They could’ve helped each other out before everything got so crazy. Maybe he could have stopped them from wanting to be werewolves.

“I don’t regret it Scott,” Isaac smiled a little and he shook his curls off his forehead. “You have a really open face, dude. I can see what you’re thinking. I don’t regret doing this. I belong now. Derek can be a jerk but... I know he would be there for me.”

“I am too,” Scott promised, looking up and smiling, glad when Isaac’s own smile grew wider and more genuinely happy. Better than when he was trying to be a badass after he’d first turned.

Isaac’s eyes flicked down to Scott’s mouth and then he pulled away abruptly. “Do you mind if I cut out a little early? I need to grab some cereal before I head back to the den.”

“Sure, no problem, I’ll finish up,” he waved off the taller boy, not even watching as he loped out of the clinic. He finished up washing up all the tools that hadn’t been taken care of earlier, shutting off the machines and cleaning out what was left of the litter. The cats still hissed and made low, unhappy noises in their throats at him but they were starting to realize that Scott wasn’t going anywhere. He finished up with locking up all the interior doors and shutting off the lights before stepping out the front door.

He should’ve known better, hands busy with the locks, should’ve listened to his senses. But he hadn’t- the moment he turned away from the door he was suddenly slamming through the glass, shattering it around his body. He was already shifting in response- teeth growing in his mouth (the ache in his jaw wasn’t something he consciously reacted to anymore) and his eyes adjusted to the low lighting.

Claws were dug into his chest, keeping Scott locked into a clench with his attacker. He roared, grabbing the shirtfront of the foreign werewolf, claws ripping through material and skin, returning the favor. Using the momentum as they landed on the floor, Scott kicked up into the other male’s stomach with all his might, dislodging the hold to separate them.

“Who are you?” He demanded, already sprung up into a crouch, wicked claws curved and ready for another lunge. The other were was on his feet too, grinning jaggedly. He was bigger, much bigger than Scott, older too.

“Ian. Nice to meet you. Hope you like the taste of your own blood,” he laughed and darted forward- faster than Scott accounted for. They crashed into the outer concrete wall and Scott could feel his ribs on fire from where they’d been cracked and were already trying to heal.

“Get off me!” He snarled, trying to worm away from Ian’s bulk, catching him upside the head with his own claws. In the dim lighting it was difficult to really make out a lot of features but he was about as big as Boyd. He wasn’t nearly as restrained.

He grabbed Scott up by his wrist, snapping it and jerked him aloft. With a feral grin, his claws were suddenly buried in Scott’s stomach, slicing through his skin easily and felt like they were curving upwards towards his ribcage. Gasping he tried to squirm away, a noise strangling in his throat. Or that could’ve been blood, he wasn’t sure.

“Let’s see how pretty your insides are... ” Ian grinned against Scott’s cheek, licking it. Scott twisted, trying to turn away from the slimy feeling. He got a snap of teeth for it, bloodying his jaw. “See if you miss yours like Sid did!”

“Wha-?” Scott’s head was reeling. Who was Sid? Ian still had his hand buried up into his stomach, not allowing him to heal at all and he was certain he was going to pass out if he didn’t get away.

“Guts aren’t very pretty. Trust me, I’ve looked.” Scott’s head turned almost at the same moment as Ian’s, finding Isaac’s lean form standing in the busted doorway. He was shifted too, snarling as he leapt onto Ian. He clawed ruthlessly at the unfamiliar werewolf’s back, digging in to hold on as he bucked and thrashed. “Scott!” He yelled, as if he wanted Scott to run.

Scott had fallen into a heap on the floor unable to go anywhere at that moment. His body was starting to stitch itself back together but he felt so heavy and breathless still. He wanted to help Isaac- he could hear the snarling and the fighting going on, the crashing against the mountain ash counter top. He needed to get up. He had to help.

Suddenly there was a hand in his vision, human looking but that scent... he knew that one.

“Well Scott? Surely you don’t think I’ve come to watch you die in such a messy and unnecessary fashion,” Peter’s head cocked to the side, like Scott was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. Scott simply stared up at Peter, flicking dark eyes between his face and his outstretched hand.

“I’m hurt that you still don’t believe my good intentions. Well, I’ll just have to work to change that.” Grabbing Scott by the back of his shirt, he hauled him to a standing position and then stepped forward, black duster flaring around long legs. Peter didn’t even shift at all, just got between Isaac and Ian and slowly turned his head to stare down the outsider.

“Clearly you’re part of the Alpha pack. Or a... representative,” He smirked, making the word sound almost insulting in its politeness. “Now we do respect the authority of the Alpha pack but we don’t really take kindly to unprovoked attacks by anyone or anything. You’re outnumbered here, child. Either you limp back to your pack and let them know that or you can go back to them in pieces,” he smiled warmly but the look in his eyes said that he could do it easily.

Ian was just as wary of Peter as Scott was, shifting his weight off the leg Isaac had broken and was still healing up. He glanced over at the younger weres, noticing that they were healing up faster than he was and he glared at Peter. “This isn’t over with.”

“Of course it’s not. It’s just beginning,” he smiled slowly, baring his teeth.

*******************

Grocery trips were supposed to be relatively uneventful things. Stiles hadn’t ever found them especially entertaining- although as a child he always appreciated that his mom would give him mini lists to go off on his own and find stuff. It was probable to run out some of that boundless energy he’d always have, to put to work his little brain. Granted not everything he came back for was precisely on his mom-appointed lists but she’d praised him anyways. He and his dad never shopped together and Stiles couldn’t say that he wanted that to change.

But just because he found them boring (comfortably so by the way) it did not mean he wanted them to be infected by the weird of the rest of his life. But whether he liked it or not, he had to deal with the fact that a dirty, disheveled blonde that looked an awful like Erica if she’d been rolled downhill in mud, sticks and god only knew what (Stiles certainly did not want to know) stepped out onto the street into the path of his jeep. He had a second’s time to react to the reflective glow of her eyes when his headlights hit them before he slammed on the brakes.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, watching as Erica continued to stare vacantly at him through the windshield. “Erica?! What the hell!” Scrambling briefly with the seatbelt, Stiles tumbled out of his jeep and around the front of the hood.

“Hi Batman,” she greeted him weakly and then collapsed. Stiles managed to catch her before she dropped to the ground, grasping her against him as best he could.

“Erica! Erica what happened to you? C’mon Erica, talk to me! This is a little freaky, c’mon, Catwoman, can’t be your Batman if you’re not playing,” he urged her, brushing dirty, bedraggled blond hair off her neck and face. She had red, healing welts like she’d hurt so many times she couldn’t heal fast enough to make the damage go away yet- or she’d been hurt by an Alpha. That sent a trickle of fear down Stiles’ spine. “What the hell. Oh my god, why am I sticky? You’re bleeding! Holy crap a lot of blood!”

Dragging her around to the side of his car, he pushed her into the passenger’s seat and found himself on a familiar path out into the woods. Deaton might be closer but Derek needed to know that Erica was alive. That was more than what they’d known yesterday after all.

“Keep breathing Erica. I’m taking you back to Derek,” He urged her. His heart twisted up at the soft mewl of a noise that came out of her cracked lips. No one as bodacious and outrageous as Erica should ever make such a sound.

The ride was short (when you learned to drive it like Stiles had you could really make it quick and dirty) and he was pulling up in front of the burnt out shell of the Hale house. He tumbled inside, shirt stained black from Erica’s werewolfy powers deciding to pull an Exorcist (laundry day was an interesting day at Stiles’ house anymore).

“Derek! Erica’s alive! I’ve got her!” He called out, dragging her bodily over to the smoke-scented green sofa that still was gracing the bottom floor.

The scent of her, the scent of the wounds, had hit him long before Stiles’ words had and he had already leapt down the stairs to effectively find them on the couch right as Stiles ended his summons. He went down on his haunches, crouching but not quite settling down beside her. The wounds would heal but they were deep. Only an Alpha could’ve done that. “When I couldn’t hear you anymore, I thought you’d left the pack.”

Careful words, as always. He had been wrong, assumed the wrong thing, hadn’t done enough to protect those few still depending on him. It really was all his fault, wasn’t it?

Kneeling by Erica’s head, Stiles brushed her hair out of her face, receiving a tiny smile for the gesture. He was surprised that she was still gripping his hand tightly in hers (enough that he’d probably have bruises). “What happened?”

Erica glanced up at Derek and then flicked her eyes away again, shame coming off of her. “They took us. They... they wanted to know what was going on here. With Jackson and the hunters,” she replied, shifting to try to sit up, managing to get herself halfway there. “Derek... they’re coming for you. They think this is all your fault. They still have Boyd! They won’t let us go, they won’t let any of us go! They don’t care that half of this stuff isn’t our fault. They don’t care, they just-” she swallowed down a dry hiccup and Stiles felt helpless.

 _‘I’d be inclined to agree with them on that topic and more.’_ Any sort of personal pity party came to a screeching halt at the mention of Boyd. Torn between blaming them for their own predicament and knowing they were still his to take care of, it was a struggle to not fall into that spiral of self-loathing on the matter. Again. “Where-”

“I know we ran off,” Erica piped up, seemingly out of the blue. She looked so chagrined, so regretful as she stared up at Derek. “We were scared.” Stiles read between the lines and he knew Derek could too. They hadn’t trusted that Derek could protect them. He knew that cut to the quick for the older man, considering everything else.

She went on, eyes shiny as she stared up at Derek, looking more vulnerable than she had in a year. “Please... please don’t go away. Please, I swear, I won’t do it again.”

The way she said that all but broke Stiles’ heart. Something about the tone, the way her eyes stared up at Derek desperately made him wonder if those were words she’d said to someone else in her life. Maybe her dad? He knew her parents had divorced a few years back, not long after she was diagnosed with her epilepsy. “You can hate us or whatever but you have to help Boyd. You have to. You know they’ll kill him. They-”

“ _Where_ did they take him?” He couldn’t process any more emotions. He _had_ to take some action and get his pack back home, safe and sound.

She coughed up more black gunk, unable to reply to Derek’s demand and aimed it rather spectacularly directly on the front of Stiles’ shirt. He gaped down at it, dropping her hand. “Oh god, really?! This could’ve been my favorite shirt! Actually I’m rapidly running out of shirts without tearing, blood stains and whatever other horrible body fluids you guys inflict on me,” he grumbled, watching Erica seriously consider that travesty by falling unconscious.

Derek cut Stiles a glance, but didn’t bother with the usual order of _shut up_. 

Stiles turned his frustration upon the Alpha. “You’re not leaving him in their clutches I know, but you can’t run off half-cocked. Dude, don’t even look at me like that, I know you. You’re always going for the punching option first. Always. Did you play a lot of Mortal Kombat as a kid or something? Terrible movies but awesome game. Also might’ve prepared me for all of this-” He made a gesture at his wet, gross shirt.

“Actually nothing prepared me for this,” he curled up his lip, swearing when he realized it had soaked in through the second one as well.

“Shut up, Stiles.” It was time to sigh and make the declaration even though Derek knew Stiles didn’t have an off button he’d found. Yet. “Take off the damn shirts.”

“ _‘Shut up Stiles’_ ,” He mocked, then blinked at the demand. Only Derek could make something that should be kinda hot sound kinda murderous. “Wait, what? Dude, there is no second basing until we get to first base- wow, that did not come out of my mouth, moving on!”

“Just take the things _off_.” He growled a lot more when in the presence of Stiles Stilinski, it was true, and he blamed Stiles 150% for it. He grabbed at the hem of his own shirt and slipped it over his head, thrusting it in the motormouth’s direction. “Have a clean shirt and shut up. There are bigger things to worry about than your damn wardrobe.”

“Fine. You’re such a _generous_ soul, giving me the sweaty, stinky shirt off your back,” Stiles dragged off his shirts and shifted his body very subtly (he was good at subtle, no really) away from Derek’s line of sight because while Stiles was awesome he certainly did not look like a hot bodied werewolf. Stupid Supernatural... genes? Was it genes? Were all the Hales hot? He bet they were. Even Creep Master Peter was hot.

That was too disturbing a thought to linger on so Stiles pulled Derek’s shirt on over his head. It was very loose on him through the chest and shoulders but it’d work to get him home at least. “You know cheerleaders get letterman jackets-” He grinned up at Derek, knowing he was pushing his luck, trying not to focus on the fact Erica was curled up in a ball on the couch.

Derek said nothing for a moment, even resisted the urge to tell Stiles to shut up. There was something in the words he was saying and the scent he was giving off. It was... flirting? “Cheerleaders also give incentive of some kind, from what I hear.” Did that just come out of his mouth? The follow up thought he pushed back and simply gave Stiles a bit of a laugh/grin combo. “If you _really_ want the jacket, you’ll have to trade something of equal value. A shirt to shut you up is whatever.”

Stiles blinked up at Derek and felt his heart literally skip a beat. That was... wow, was Derek? ... no. Noooo. No way. Derek was... just messing with his brain. Because he was evil. Hot. But evil. It was a family trait. His brain was going in bad, bad places and it was Derek’s fault, that was the only thing Stiles was going to focus on. Just like when he turned that ridiculous grin on that poor police officer, Stiles was feeling his brains dribble out of his ears and he needed them. “Okay, so I should go now! I have... I... food. I have to get food. Call me if you-” He stopped and then shook his head a little. “Bye.”

Stiles didn’t exactly beat a retreat from the house but it wasn’t dignified either. He’d call it a draw in the grand scheme of Stiles’ life.

********

With Erica still out of commission, Derek had a big nothing to go off of in his search for Boyd. He’d made one mistake already with Erica, writing her off and assuming she (and Boyd) had left him and his failing pack. Knowing differently changed a lot and added even more guilt that he daily carried around on his shoulders.

Carrying guilt, however, wasn’t going to save Boyd and Derek knew it was long past time to make amends for letting him be in harm’s way for _any_ length of time. The only lead he had was the tiny bit of knowledge Erica was able to share. The Alphas had been holding her _and_ Boyd, and they still had him. Whether or not he could feel the connection was irrelevant. Boyd was his Pack, his responsibility to look out for, even if it meant blindly chasing the scent of them and saying _to hell with consequence_.

Erica’s trail of escape wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it would be to find, though it became almost too weak to keep tabs on for long stretches. A turn here, a twist around a grouping thick with trees there, and he was able to pick it back up again. It wasn’t until the trail went stone cold that he growled in frustration. He didn’t give up, though. He just backtracked and started fresh, finding the scent and realizing where he’d made the mistake in the first place.

He couldn’t risk calling out but he kept checking the Alpha/Beta bond to see if there was anything. Even a faint trace would have been _something_. Derek knew the odds of finding something on his own were severely stacked against him, but he couldn’t give up, not again. He _couldn’t_.

He could, however, be wholly distracted by the scent of another that registered as Pack, another that he hadn’t been able to find in days. 

_Jackson._

Jackson wasn’t ready to come to the Pack. He could sense this with every fiber of his being. He was rebelling about everything that had occurred and the go away vibe he was giving off was enough that Derek let him continue to hightail it through the woods towards something he felt was familiar to Jackson. A single word echoed in Jackson’s mind, the only word Derek was able to pick up on before he let Jackson disappear back to the obscurity he’d been wallowing in.

_Danny._

The woods were silent again, eerily so. Derek shook his head and let out a huff as he backtracked once more to acquire the Alpha pack’s scent all over again and try once more to find Boyd. It was far too early to give up and equally too early to hope Erica had come around with something more for him to work with. _'Don’t give up, Boyd. We’re coming.'_

***********

Stiles exited his Jeep long after Derek finally stopped trying to pick up after his packmate’s weak trail. He was mumbling something into the groceries bags he juggled between his arms, looking as if he was about to drop at least one of them. Still even with that taking the majority of his concentration, he paused. Body tensing, he glanced around into the night air, though he was unable to spot anything.

“God Derek, if that’s you I swear to god I’m boarding up my bedroom window,” he muttered.

When the boy went inside finally, a pair of twins exited from the nearby grove of trees just on the edge of the subdivision. They appeared to be in their twenties with lean, strong bodies that wouldn’t seem that noteworthy except for the fluid, unreal grace they both possessed. The female of the pair nodded her head once. “He’s definitely of their pack. The word of mouth said as much but I had trouble believing it.”

“Why not? Hale’s a big fuck up in all ways you could be an Alpha. You could smell his scent all the way over here from where he’s marked the kid.”

“That’s not what I was talking about. I meant him accepting humans into his pack. I’d heard the Hales did that but,” She shook her head, dark hair rustling around her cheeks. She didn’t look disgusted, just perplexed.

“Still think we should’ve followed after the blonde whelp when she got away from Talbot,” he grumbled, narrowing gold eyes and sniffing at the air.

“If he’s stupid enough to let her get away, that’s not our problem,” she replied. “Besides, he still has the boy doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. He said he had plans for him though,” he shuddered, shoving his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. “C’mon Nessa, we should head back. We’ll tell Lycaon what’s going on when he gets here in a week.”


	4. In Which Everything is About Jackson Except When it Isn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cookie to anyone who gets the reference to a certain old sci-fi show from the 90's. <3

The thing about being declared dead and then not being actually dead was everyone showered you with attention. Normally Jackson would have considered it his due. After all, he was a Whittemore, who else in all of Beacon Hills deserved it more? He had deserved the fawning, the tearful welcome-back’s, the mounds of cards, flowers, get-well-soon treats. He deserved them.

Except he didn’t, did he. He had killed eight people. Regardless of what they’d done to Matt, he had been used like a weapon. He’d been _used_. The feeling was unfamiliar and sickening, making him want to claw off his skin. But he couldn’t do that- he’d tried it, in the shower, with nails that had curved out wickedly sharp and deadly (but not dripping with poison). He’d healed from any cut against his skin.

He’d gotten what he wanted- he was a werewolf... and he hated it.

It didn’t make him feel any more powerful. Jackson felt even more vulnerable- his ears were sensitive, his sense of smell made him throw out half the junk in his bathroom cabinets, his jaw hurt any time his fangs came out. He felt like he was backed into a corner in his own house, unable to breathe or feel safe.

Which might explain why he ended up in Danny’s bedroom the second night after he was released from the hospital.

Danny, because he was Danny, didn’t really question it. He’d been the one person Jackson had been relieved to come see him when he ‘came back’. Danny hadn’t fallen on him with a lot of words or hugging (which was good because Jackson could barely stand being hugged before) but he’d covered Jackson’s hand with his own and held it for twenty minutes while people drifted in and out of his hospital room. It had anchored him then and apparently he wanted more of that.

The Mahealani clan weren’t put out to find Jackson in bed with Danny, clinging to him like a teddy bear (and thank god Danny was mostly a good guy and would wait to use his blackmail on Jackson judiciously). He’d just been invited down to breakfast.

It was the fourth day in a row that Mrs. Mahealani woke them up for breakfast that she pulled Jackson aside. She was a tiny woman, barely five feet tall, soft and rounded everywhere, nothing at all like Jackson’ own mother. Her black hair was cut up near her chin and she was always wearing measuring tape around her neck like the necklaces she made. She had the most loving smile that had ever been directed his way.

“Jackson, you know Ed and I don’t mind you staying over with Danny. You stay as much as you need to, we love you too,” She encouraged him, making Jackson tense and give a frozen little smile. “But we did have to tell your parents where you were.”

He tensed up even further, unhappiness coiling up in his gut. “Let me guess, they think it’s high time I come home and stop imposing on you.” He didn’t want to go back there. He didn’t fit there... and now he never would. He was a changeling child, more than he’d ever been before.

She tutted at him, rubbing a hand over his bicep. “Well they would like you to come home but I told them that maybe you just needed this for right now and they agreed.” Jackson’s brows arching must’ve said something to her because she let out a laugh just like Danny’s. “Your daddy may be a lawyer but I’m a momma and that trumps any day.”

“You should believe her, I saw her threaten one of Lany’s douchey ex-boyfriends with a tire iron,” Danny stepped out of the steamy bathroom to his right, grinning at them as he scrubbed a towel over his head. The feel of heat and skin prickled along Jackson’s new senses but not in a bad way. Danny smelled... safe. His voice was a low rumble under Jackson’s skin, nothing bothersome.

“-if Sheriff Stilinski hadn’t coaxed him out of the tree, we would’ve had the fire department here!” Danny was teasing his mom when he tuned his senses back into focus, kissing the top of her head.

“He needed a lesson in manners,” She was grumbling and Jackson nodded vigorously, smiling at her in the same way he used to smile at another terrifying tiny woman, albeit with red instead of black hair. Mrs. Mahealani beamed back at him. “But anyways! Aside from that, I just wanted you to know that your parents dropped off a duffle bag of clothing for you so you don’t have to wear Danny’s any longer and... they made an appointment for you to see Ms. Morell.”

He wanted to tell her to fuck off, that he wasn’t talking to anyone but the best he managed was a sneer. “Really? The _school_ guidance counselor? They won’t even send me to a real therapist? Not that I need one.”

“She’s actually the most qualified in the area,” She tilted her head, watching him thoughtfully, her expression compassionate but not taking any bullshit either. She had been one of the few people that had put her foot down with Jackson as a child and made it stick. “Her studies were specifically in helping trauma victims.”

“I’m not a _victim_!” The words were snapped out harsh and wild, his voice going into dangerous territory judging by the way brown eyes widened at him. Danny stepped closer to him and Jackson smacked him off before he could say anything, shoving past his chest and into the bathroom.

He could hear Danny sighing, murmuring in a low voice that did nothing to stop Jackson from hearing it anymore. “I don’t know if I’m helping or not. He’s... he’s really messed up Mom. I don’t have a clue what happened to him any more than I did before.”

“It’ll be alright. Jackson’s always been a little high-strung. We’ll get him through this.”

“I don’t know if we can. This is different.”

“Faith manages, Danny. Now go get dressed.”

Jackson pressed his forehead against the tile wall, letting the coolness sink into his skin. He agreed with Danny. He didn’t know if he could figure out what was wrong with him. He could put on the act again- be Jackson Whittemore but... all he could think about was what Stiles had pointed out so cruelly when they’d grabbed him. No one would care if he’d been gone, if they’d killed him. Maybe Jackson wouldn’t have cared much either.

He got into the shower, letting the water beat into his muscles and cascade over his skin. He tended to be a little more fanatical about being clean now. Sometimes he still saw blood on his hands, running down the drain. He didn’t want to dwell on that, he just wanted to be normal again.

When he finished in the shower, Jackson slipped back into Danny’s room, the duffel bag of his own clothing waiting for him. It was strange that it wasn’t until that moment that he really recognized Danny’s scent on the clothes he had been wearing. It was just part of the environment and now that he had his own clothes, he could feel how much of an invasion he was. Part of him really didn’t care. Danny was his friend, he’d be fine with Jackson staying. Because... because Danny was a really good friend.

He was quiet throughout the tumultuous breakfast for the most part. Mrs. Mahealani fussed after her husband as he got ready for work. In response, he snuck her a kiss that was clearly fond and warm. Jackson watched them maybe a little too closely. His parents weren’t as bad as say, Lydia’s had been, but they didn’t have the warm, trusting foundation that Danny’s did. His father had mistresses, probably even had one now. He worked hard, he deserved that... and yet it still made Jackson feel badly for his mom. But maybe she knew what she was getting into when she married him. She was his second wife after all.

When Mr. Mahealani left, Jackson’s gaze drifted back to Danny’s older sisters, Lany and Becca. Both were drop dead gorgeous and while he didn’t like to admit it, he’d always been a little bitter that neither of them had given him the time of day. Lany was particularly hot and he didn’t care that she was six years older than they were- especially as she walked out of the door on those killer heels with a quick goodbye to the room.

“Why aren’t you Danny’s boyfriend?” Evan narrowed his eyes at Jackson, making him almost choke on his bagel. “His last boyfriend was a douche-”

“You can’t say that,” Elisa interrupted her twin primly, nibbling delicately at her cereal spoon.

“He was! Becca said so,” Evan continued with a glare, ducking when Becca swatted at him with a hairbrush. “But he’s not got a boyfriend now. You can be his new one.”

Danny looked like he wanted to strangle his siblings and Jackson was actually amused. He sidled closer to his side, batting his lashes at his friend. “Well I’m not his boyfriend because Danny just won’t admit he’s crazy for me,” he declared with that bad boy grin he’d practiced in the mirror for two years to perfect.

“Danny’s dumb. You’re really pretty,” Elisa preened at him from under a mop of black hair that Becca was still trying to wrangle into a ponytail. Or possibly a unicorn horn. You could never tell with Ellie.

“Ellie, we talked about this. Jackson is straight,” Credit where it was due, Danny did sound very patient despite the lack of understanding on his siblings’ part.

“So?”

“So that means Jackson doesn’t like boys like I like boys.”

“You like stupid boys.” Evan was not going to let this drop any time soon. Now Danny was getting double teamed and he let out a soft breath through his nose.

“He’s got you there,” Jackson smirked wider. He agreed with Evan- Danny had terrible taste in boyfriends for as long as he’d been dating. Clearly he would be better off hopelessly in love with Jackson.

“Shut up Jackson, unless you don’t want to be pretty anymore,” Danny muttered.

“Daniel! Don’t threaten Jackson, that’s not nice,” Mrs. Mahealani came in at that, moving over to take over for Becca. “Hold still Ellie. Jackson would make a very nice boyfriend if we’re talking a poll,” she grinned wickedly when both Jackson and Danny blushed darkly.

“I think we’re going to be lat-”

“-we should be going-” They turned at the same time to exit out of the kitchen and out of the house.

There weren’t really a lot of people Jackson would let drive him around. He owned a Porsche for Christ’s sake, why wouldn’t he want to show it off at every available opportunity? And there was also the part where he just hated the idea of not being in control. When he drove himself, he got to call the shots.

Right now he didn’t really feel like driving, not to mention that he hadn’t apparently driven over to Danny’s house in the first place. He’d run or stumbled there, he didn’t really remember, so he basically had to let Danny drive him. The other boy was pressing the fob on his keychain when he frowned up at a house across the street.

“What?” Jackson turned to look over himself. There was a figure slipping into an open bedroom. “Is that... Derek Hale climbing into someone’s house?”

“Yeah. _Stiles’_ house,” Danny cocked his head, puzzled. “I knew something was off when he decided to call Derek his cousin ‘Miguel’ but it wasn’t my business. Do you think his dad doesn’t want them dating? He was suspected of murder right?”

“I don’t even want to think about Stilinski’s dick near anything. Ever,” He curled up his lip and slipped into the passenger seat. “Let’s go!” He demanded, glaring at the Stilinski house. Fuck Derek Hale. Fuck him and his ‘gift’ and the fact he wasn’t doing a damn thing to help Jackson. Clearly he was on his own.

That suited him just fine.

*********

“I’m glad to see you up and about now, Mr. Whittemore.” Olivia Morell was rather hot for a school guidance counselor if he thought about it and since he wasn’t interested in anything she wanted to talk about, Jackson was imagining what color her bra was under the low vee of her soft-looking blouse. The office they were sitting in was in his own house, another empty room that was more for show than comfort. Everything perfectly appointed by some decorator and no one who actually lived there had any say in. “Jackson?”

“What. I’m fine,” he declared, giving a smile that was mostly a sneer and very little of anything true or heartfelt. “I’m great in fact. The docs said so.”

“But you had been declared dead. That seems to me like that might... linger in a person’s mind a bit,” She decided carefully, dark eyes watching his face for the minute little flinches he unknowingly gave. She didn’t react to the way he sprawled out over the couch, boredom fairly radiating from his body language.

“Listen, I’m sure you’re here for the no doubt stupidly overpriced paycheck my father is dangling and I’m here so they’ll get off my case. Let’s not pretend any differently, okay?” he declared, rolling his eyes.

“I’m here for you Jackson,” She assured him. “Not anyone else.”

“Right. Whatever.” He slumped back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s alright. If you feel like your life has gotten out of control,” She ventured, knowing she hit a mark when Jackson’s eyes immediately darted to hers and then off again. “It’s a scary feeling.”

“You don’t know anything about control,” he retorted through his teeth.

“I know that for someone who strives as hard as you do, control means a great deal. It means that you are not weak,” Her eyes were steady on him and Jackson’s heart was picking up speed for a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“I’m not weak. I’m better than everyone at Beacon Hills High. I’m the captain of the lacrosse team, I carry a 4.0, I have tons of friends, everyone there wants to be me or be with me,” he snapped out. Maybe that was petty. Maybe Jackson didn’t care. Wasn’t it better to be a big fish in a small pond than a small fish getting turned into sushi by bigger, meaner fish. He wasn’t so dumb as to think otherwise.

“I would say that you can’t be strong all the time.”

“Be glad you’re not in my family. Weakness is there to be exploited, not coddled,” He insisted, jiggling a leg up and down before he stopped himself.

She tilted her head a little, considering his words- or pretending to, he didn’t know. Didn’t care really. “That’s a fair point. Being vulnerable to the wrong person definitely invites exploitation. We all need to make sure that the people we trust are worthy of it,” she agreed mildly, scratching out a note on the pad across her lap. “Do you trust me?”

“I don’t even know you,” He pointed out, brows knitting a little.

“Do you trust yourself?”

What? “What? ... what kind of question-”

“It’s a valid question Jackson. Do you trust yourself.” The steady way she was watching him was unnerving. Jackson had discovered that when the pressure was really amped up, he was a terrible liar. And the fact of the matter was... he’d turned into a monster and he hadn’t even realized it for such a long time. And worse-

“I can hypnotize you as part of your therapy. It would allow me to get past these barriers you put up,” Olivia pointed out as she stood up, moving around the desk to stand against the corner nearest to him.

“What- no! Not a chance, I’m not going to let you screw around with my head,” Jackson threw up his hands, getting up. “This is pointless-”

She shrugged. “Fine, we’ll just have weekly meetings for the rest of the summer. Possibly into the new school year as well. They may cut into your practice time but, mental health should come before anything else.”

Jackson hated to be outmaneuvered. He hated in the field, he hated in his girlfriends, he just... fucking hated a lot of things. But the trade off with dealing with Ms. Morell for months made it seem worth it. After all, hypnotism was a crock anyways. “Whatever. Give it a shot then, see if you can find anything.”

She gave him a tiny smile and gestured for him to sit back against the couch. “Close your eyes. Let your hands fall naturally into your lap. Yes, very good. “ She walked him through the process, watching as Jackson’s body finally relaxed, bit by bit, breathing deeply, peacefully. It took time but she didn’t mind. For what was needed, time would have to simply be allowed.

“Jackson, can you hear me?” Olivia’s voice was soft, modulated to reach him as she leaned over the couch.

“Yes,” he was breathing deeply, no signs of any distress.

“Good. You’re going to be truthful with me to the best of your ability.” She waited for Jackson’s assenting noise. “Are you still under the control of Gerard Argent?”

“No.” There was a curious amount of conflict in his features and Olivia took it as another indication that Jackson wanted a strong hand. Someone to guide him.

“Are you still the kanima?”

“....” Either he was or he wasn’t sure if he was. Either way, it made him a dangerous liability. Still, it was something worth working with now that it was presented to her. Stepping away briefly, Olivia pulled out more items from her bag and got to work. She only had so much time to prepare insurance for herself while he was under.

“What happened to Gerard Argent?” She placed a drop of the command oil at the dip of his clavicles she had drawn out of her satchel. Scents waft from the slight gesture- bergamot, the bitter licorice, earthy frankincense and underneath that calamus root. Keeping oneself alive and serving the greater good required preparation as well as seizing opportunity when it presented itself.

“He died.”

“Did you see him die?”

“... no.” Nothing that surprised her given that his body was missing. Deaton had hoped that Gerard had simply crawled away to die but they both acknowledged that it was unlikely.

“Do you have any other master?”

“No.” Interesting. At the very least she expected Derek or even Peter Hale to step in and tap the potential in Jackson.

“Have you ever lost time that you cannot account for?”

“Yes.”

“Recently?”

“... yes.”

Taking a breath, Olivia considered what potential was there in that response. The bodies turning up dead did not have any poisons in them, no paralytic toxins... still there was the possibility he was still acting out his predatory impulses that had been supposedly subdued. Leaning down, she whispered quietly into Jackson’s ear, the words settling down into the depths of his mind, ones he would not recall even when she let him out of the trance.

*****************

It didn’t take Olivia long to drive back to her apartment despite the fact it was on the other side of town from the Whittemore mansion. The complex was small and quiet and her apartment inside was spartan, betraying nothing of her work for the Tulaa. It might be impersonal but she didn’t put much stock into worldly possessions, not when there was so much more at stake. Her calling was worth so much more than trinkets and mementos, yet nevertheless, it did prick on her temper to find her apartment in shambles and a huge werewolf snarling at her.

“Talbot,” She greeted calmly, her eyes flicking down to Vernon Milton Boyd as she went through the motions of picking up the end table to set her keys on it. Her lips thinned out, the only outward sign of her displeasure. “It’s... unfortunate that he’s seen me. I would have thought you understood the need for discretion. Especially for your own sake.”

“This cat and mouse bullshit is for weaklings! I have no time to play babysitter, I should have Hale’s throat between my teeth by now!” He thundered down at her, eyes flashing red and highlighting the ugly scar on his cheek. Scars on werewolves were very unusual, some even thought it was impossible but she knew differently. It took pure silver to do it, the only way for a human to kill an Alpha. Talbot was huge, well over 6’4 and thickly muscled. Even without the scar, he’d never been a handsome man, his face twisted up in feral and vicious rages more often than not. His temper made him a liability but the strength he commanded in his pack (30 strong) was too much to ignore.

“You will have that, I’ve already told you that but I need to keep everyone’s focus elsewhere! If Hale is busy worrying about his missing pack, he cannot prepare for your assault when it comes. It’s leverage, something you’re in need of over Lycaon,” Olivia replied, feet spread apart, unflinching. Showing fear, or worse, weakness to an Alpha like Talbot was deadly.

Gnashing his teeth, Talbot turned abruptly and smacked Boyd across the face like a tantruming child. Boyd, to his credit, said nothing, eyes steady on the wall behind them though there was exhaustion written across his features. Olivia knew he was taking in as much as he could in case he could get away and it hadn’t escaped her notice that Erica was not here with him. The balance of her plan was in flux but she could correct that.

Moving into her kitchen, she grabbed a small packet she kept with the spices. The scent was potent even through the material it was housed in but she shook out the purple dust onto her hands.

Talbot reared back but she ignored him, moving to Boyd and gently blew the powder into his face. It only took moments before he slumped over, out cold. “That’s better. Now then, you need to take him to the hunters. Everett is your contact. Drop off Boyd and let them deal with having Hale’s attention on them. While he is trying to fight a war on two fronts, you can make the kill.”

Talbot grabbed her up by her throat suddenly, letting her boots dangling precariously in the air. “I do not take orders from meat.”

Clutching at the clawed hand around her throat, Olivia struggled to get the words out. “I would not presume... I act only to advise the best course with what I know. The hunters are already an enemy to Hale, you can decimate him easily and then you’ll have the biggest pack and the biggest territory.” Her breath was coming in shallow, wheezing noises that were almost as painful to hear as they were to feel.

He leaned in, breathing in close at her throat and Olivia knew he was listening to her heartbeat, the thrum of blood in her veins. Talbot was halfway to feral, some thought he had been driven mad by the silver poisoning. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was using the tools she had at hand to balance it all out again.

When he dropped her, she stayed on the floor, letting him throw Boyd’s unconscious body over his shoulder to haul into the night. She was confident he would do as she said.


	5. In Which Omelets Are Made and There are Discussion About Mushrooms

Erica was still near-comatose and unhelpful in the information giving department. It was for the best, the non-stop sleeping part. Sleeping slowed down the use of a body’s organs and was the natural state for a person to repair the damage done during the day. Even with the benefit of a werewolf’s immune system and healing ability, the Alpha pack had done a number on her.

The lull in information allowed him to track down the scents that kept popping up around his house. They were faint but they were there, prominent enough to raise the proverbial fur on the back of his neck. To say Derek was beyond frustrated with the Alpha pack in general was a huge understatement. Tracking them was, as it had been for several days, a lesson in patience. With no way to save Boyd and no leads to go off of, he’d learned how to track the scent as far as he could, regroup mentally and focus out the Alpha powers he had at his own disposal, and finally pick up the purposely broken trail they’d been keeping him running around in. It wasn’t the best tactic but it was slowly paying off. He was actually able to find new scents now, scents he realized led out of the woods and further towards civilization.

He followed the scents back to the main part of town that time. Usually, they stopped right on the outskirts or drifted close to Doctor Deaton’s vet office, but never towards the suburban homes where civilians lived. It wasn’t until he’d gotten closer to the main stretches of homes that he started picking up something completely out of the blue; _his own scent_. 

Talk about deja vu. There was no weirder sensation than the realization that you were kind of following yourself. That’s what his nose was telling him anyway. He was following himself following what was definitely the scent of an Alpha and a beta he hadn’t had the _pleasure_ of meeting before. All of this was impossible, of course. He hadn’t made a habit of leaving the woods since he’d taken up the task of trailing and hunting the Alpha pack. His scent being that close to human homes... 

When his eyes locked onto the front porch of the Stilinski house, it all finally clicked. “Damn it.” He rolled his eyes and huffed as he took off towards it and did a thorough search of the exterior of the property before climbing in Stiles’ window.

Stiles was, of course oblivious to the danger, bopping along to the music blaring out of his speakers, an old, cracked leather journal in one hand. When he turned around during his little shimmy, he came face to face with Derek and yelped as he lost his balance.

Speed that defied human capacity always came in handy when catching a clumsy teenager before he fell on his ass. It denied him the ability to start chastising him because he was too busy rolling his eyes, holding onto his shirt until he secured his footing (ungracefully) and shooed Derek’s hand away with a series of flailing arm gestures. Of all the humans to have to keep an eye on, Stiles Stilinski was not the one Derek would have chosen.

“Swear to god I am going to find a way to get you to use a door. I can buy doggie treats if necessary to bribe you,” Stiles complained, heart rabbiting loudly in his chest. “So, is there a reason you came by or did you miss thinking murderous thoughts at my face?”

“You smell like me and you were being followed.” Derek watched the nervous pacing but still smelled something... different about Stiles.

“I... what?” He blinked at him and waited for more forthcoming information than that. Then he rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna need a little more to go on than that big guy. Also I’m ignoring the smelling part because your guess is- oh wait! I know this!” He grinned up at Derek and darted for his desk. Grabbing up a rather old book, he flipped it open to one of the markers he’s placed in it.

“I’ve been... scentmarked!” He declared triumphantly. Then he frowned, considering. “Did you do that on purpose? See, it says here that werewolves dislike scents other than their own, especially Alpha wolves so when they claim an area or pack, they make sure that their scent is the... most dominant scent in the area.”

Derek looked at him for a few seconds... and then looked at him for a few more seconds. Every response was a potential landmine with that topic. He hadn’t been actively trying to mark Stiles... or had he? Honestly, the guy needed to shut up about it. _That was all._ The scent on Stiles, however, wasn’t exactly making him want to run away or tear his shirt off.

…That was slightly a lie. Slightly.

He ran a hand roughly over his face. “It wasn’t the original plan but it’ll do,” he decided. “It means you’re going to have people following you now, which is something we’re going to have to... what, are you seriously going to read books at a time like this?”

Stiles waved his hand at Derek, frowning as he flipped through first one of the books before he grabbed up another. “No, no, I got this. Really! There is something in here about being able to hide scents from other werewolves!” His nose wrinkled. “Oh wait, it’s from the hunter’s journal and involves roses interwoven with a wolfsbane pouch. Which would probably work but probably piss off every werewolf around me. Ugh.”

“You think?” Sometimes great things came out of Stiles’ mouth, whether Derek wanted to admit it or not. Then there were times, like this, where... no. That was just stupid. “We’ll deal with this. What else is in your books?”

“Hey, I’m new to this, jerkoff! Some of us weren’t born with a milkbone in our mouths so cut me some slack,” Stiles snapped out, feeling his ears flush with annoyance as he refused to look away from Derek. He had done it before but he’d also read about the dominance hierarchy in packs too. Was that why Derek seemed focused on making Stiles afraid of him? He wanted to find out, refusing to show any fear or any capitulation. “I did more to help out Scott than Peter did. Or you.”

Yeah, there might be some slamming now.

Derek grinned and gave a nod. This was never a good thing with Derek Hale. “Is that right,” he said, which was even worse than slamming, because it generally meant wall slamming was imminent. “Did Scott explain to you how I trusted him and how that bit me in the ass? Did Peter tell you how I trusted _him_ and - oh look - the same thing happened again?”

Then came the wall slamming, the open act of aggression that seemed to be Derek’s method of choice when dealing with Stiles. _Always when dealing with Stiles._ “I wasn’t saying your books were worthless.” _Or that you were worthless._ He probably lingered a bit too long against the exposed neck being offered to him before he blinked and slowly released Stiles’ shirt. 

_His_ shirt, whatever. “Whatever. What else do your books say on this?”

Stiles was trembling, he couldn’t deny it. Nor could he deny the knot of... tension, of feelings that were residing in his stomach, too tangled up for him to deal with right now. Or willing to deal with. But he did feel a prick of guilt when Derek pointed out the fact he had a few trust issues. Massive ones.

“Gee, I’d be willing to tell you but it’s kind of hard to think when you’re all in my business,” He pointed out. Rolling his shoulders forward, Stiles sighed and dipped his gaze a little bit, not looking him in the eyes any longer. Not enough to be really giving in but enough, hopefully to get Derek to stop making that low noise in his throat.

“Alright.” Normally, the act of letting go of a shirt or dusting said shirt off was more intense and purposeful, more for posturing and pack placement. When Derek smoothed down the material of Stiles’ shirt that time, it was slow and he was deeper in thought that he thought he should be. The gesture of turning on his heel and moving away was a vague one, but it was probably noticed for the human avoidance characteristic that it was. “Then think, page flip, whatever you gotta do because I doubt I can 24/7 guard your ass with everything that’s going on.”

Stiles worked his jaw, feeling that hot stab of humiliation rising up in him again- it covered up the fear he’d felt when Gerard had grabbed him. Beat him. “I don’t need you to guard me,” he snapped and then breathed out. No panic attacks. He didn’t have those anymore, he refused.

“Are you hungry?” he asked out of the blue. “Whatever, I am and you’re a werewolf so you burn through calories faster than humans do. Hence why you guys are so hot to the touch,” he gestured for Derek to follow him downstairs.

“My dad’s out,” he added, tromping down on the stairs. “You think the people you scented around me are from the Alpha pack, right? They’re probably trying to figure out who would be the easiest to grab next if they’re trying to get us all. They know they can’t come for you directly- I learned that too by the way,” he waved the journal in his hand vaguely. “They can’t attack you directly without it being a challenge and that would give you an opportunity to kill them before they make their decision about killing you.”

“Well aren’t you a walking encyclopedia on the subject.” He followed Stiles down the stairs, watching his hand as it gripped the railing, fingers idly slipping along the rest of the wall as he turned the corner and entered the kitchen. “If you’d read up a bit more, you’d have gotten to the fluff of the story that talks about scent marking that reads a bit too much like Twilight for its own good.”

Derek grabbed a seat before Stiles had a chance to whirl around and throw even more questions at him.

“Hey, it wasn’t wrong either,” Stiles insisted stubbornly. “You just don’t like me figuring you out.” He wielded a spatula at Derek from his position at the fridge, pulling it open to grab out all the ingredients for omelets. They were pretty easy to make and if he screwed them up then they’d just have scrambled eggs instead.

“So. I was thinking.” He could almost feel Derek behind him making a bitchface. “Shut it! I was _thinking_ that you have a small pack. And there has to be at least three packs in this area that think you’re a threat. That’s what it takes to form an Alpha pack, right? But why? We’re not anything- normally packs are what, fifteen to twenty strong? You have four betas. That’s nothing. That wouldn’t really require an Alpha pack,” he pointed out as he let his fingers move automatically over the turkey bacon, chopping it up. Finishing that up, he began to shred the cheese- a lot of it.

“That would only take one pack to take over your territory. But they decided to form an Alpha pack, okay, sure buuuuut they haven’t really come in full force,” He waved the spatula at Derek again, making sure he was paying attention. “My theory is that it’s because they’re making sure Jackson isn’t still his charming serial killer self. Once they figure that out, they’re gonna come after us hard. So. We need to outthink them before they figure it out. Also, we probably need to get a hold of Jackson before they do. Mushrooms?”

He wasn’t convinced Stiles was actually done talking about that topic or any other topic for that matter. “No thanks.” He answered the question that required an immediate answer instead.

“Werewolves need veggies too. You want to grow up and be a big and strong Alpha don’t you?” Stiles grinned smugly, throwing the mushrooms in anyways.

“What purpose did asking my preference serve, exactly?” Derek didn’t even have to glare since Stiles was just going with the assumption that he just _was_.

“Conversation!” Stiles was still grinning. He cracked the eggs with surprising dexterity, tossing the shells into the trash. He grabbed for Tabasco sauce, sprinkling it in and smiling a little. “Mom made them this way. You’ll love’em.” He didn’t know what made him say that but... it wasn’t like he was ashamed of his mom and hated talking about her. “You need a lot of work on it- conversations I mean. See, you’re already using compound sentences. Maybe we’ll actually get you up to doing villainous monologues like your Uncle.”

“Conversation usually indicates you, at some point, shut up and I get a word in edgewise.” Derek stood up and picked a few of the mushrooms out. Disgusting. “And it also means when you ask a person what they want, you let them decide instead of deciding for them.”

“Oh really? So you are a fan of giving people a choice,” Stiles tossed off but even as he said it, he realized it was true. He winced, scrapping his knuckle on the cheese grater and hissing. Sucking the finger into his mouth, he looked at Derek thoughtfully.

“I’m a fan of... what the hell, don’t put it in your mouth.” He grabbed Stiles’ hand and took him over to the sink where he ran it under water. Stiles complained at the handling but it was ignored. “Do you know how many germs are in a person’s mouth? Seriously, use your superbrain.”

He paused and though he was staring at the water as it hit Stiles’ knuckles, he was very obviously elsewhere. “I’m a fan of people being honest,” he added, that show of trust and vulnerability not easy for him... but apparently easy with Stiles. “And I’m a fan of not having to hide my plans, which is where the honesty comes in.”

He put the dishrag over the graze and turned back to the table. “Also a fan of normal food not needing blood so you should bandage that.”

He did not go for the raw meat joke he might’ve, Stiles instead blinked down at his hand, thoughtful. “I didn’t like that about you when I met you,” he admitted honestly, moving to open a drawer with one hand and fix the heat of the stove with the other. He grabbed out a band-aid and plucked it open to wrap around his knuckle awkwardly. “I could tell you were holding back and it made my skin itch. I’m a Stilinski, my dad’s been sheriff all my life and I can tell a con a mile away, okay? You _were_ conning Scott at the beginning.”

He pressed his lips together, back to Derek as he watched the butter swirl around the pan. “I get that it’s not easy for you. It’s not... I don’t trust other people easily either. People are dicks a lot. Even when they mean well, they still don’t-” They didn’t get why you were an angry ten year old and didn’t have time to deal with your issues because your mommy was dead. _Boo hoo. Get over it. Cry more! Stilinski misses his mommy, Stilinski misses his mommy-_

Whoops, trips down memory lane sucked. “So, what do you eat? I mean, do you catch rabbits with your teeth?” He deliberately changed topics. “I doubt the pizza delivery dude comes out as far as you live.”

Derek shook his head as he quietly moved back over to Stiles. Con? No, he was a guy caught in a major puzzle. Arrived in town looking for his sister only to find her dead along with a new wolf he didn’t turn. Trails of dead bodies everywhere and hunters who mysteriously arrived in town at the same time. But, like most times in Derek’s life, it wasn’t time to argue or prove a point. It was time to observe and so he did. He observed the slouch of Stiles shoulders that coupled with his tense lips. Those things along with a subject change meant he took it somewhere he hadn’t intended. Going back to it would’ve been more difficult than it needed to be.

“I eat whatever.” His arm brushed against Stiles as he reached for the discarded mushrooms and put them back in the pan. 

Stiles jumped, not having heard Derek come closer. He swallowed, ignoring the way his body seemed all over pointing out in great detail how close the older wolf was. “Okay, but you must’ve had some favorite food at some point right? You can have feelings about stuff you know,” he pointed out, sounding more serious and more quiet than he had before.

“I have feelings about a lot of things,” came the rebuttal. Against an ear he hadn’t realized was that close, something he corrected by moving a few steps away. “But food is whatever.”

“I meant non-death and vengeance related feelings,” Stiles replied immediately, ignoring that his hand was shaking a little. He was ignoring a lot of stuff. Probably not a good idea while cooking- so he tossed in the chopped up meat and cheese in a long line across the middle of the eggs. “Seriously though, I will not let up about this if you don’t give me a straight answer. Do you want that Derek? Do you _really_ want me to make it my mission in life to find out everything I can about your-” Desires was so not a word to use right now. Bad brain. No cookie. “-your um, culinary preferences?”

Derek grinned for about half of that diatribe. It couldn’t be helped. “I don’t have any,” he repeated. “I have preferences in some regards... just not food. Do you want to find out everything you can about those other preferences?”

Stiles’ hearing was off. Wasn’t it? He glanced back at Derek, wondering if he was hearing that right or if that was just his dick deciding that Derek was... possibly a little bent. Sexfully. “I uh-” He was saved by the pan snapping and hissing angrily at him and he swore, scooping up the omelet and shoving it onto the plate. “Ugh, sorry, sorry. Normally I’m better at that. It may be a little crispy on the bottom.”

Grabbing a knife, he sliced the huge omelet in half, slipping it onto a plate to hand off to the werewolf. “I made sure to keep the mushrooms to one end,” he smiled, the expression genuine for once, almost happy. Throwing himself at the kitchen table, he tucked into his half.

“But I might like mushrooms. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never actually tried them.” 

“Ugh, you are so wishy-washy. First you don’t want mushrooms, then you say whatever and now you do? C’mere,” Stiles leaned over the table and plopped a section of his omelet on his plate. He was looking kind of smug so Stiles rolled his eyes. “Werewolves and their bottomless stomachs.”

Derek took a bite and seemed to genuinely ponder the flavor. “It’s not meat,” he decided, “But it’s not bad, either.”

They were supposed to be dealing with a scent issue, but that very issue was slightly skewing Derek’s ability to brain... to put it mildly. Stiles smelled like him, was giving off vibes that were very foreign for even Stiles, Stiles was sharing without sharing past experiences... and now Stiles was giving up food on demand to the Alpha. To say it was mildly confusing to his senses was an understatement. “Now that I’ve tried them, I know. Pretty good, Stiles.”

“Did you-” He looked around the kitchen, obviously checking for cameras. “Did you just compliment me? Oh shit! You’ve been drugged! Help, help! The Alpha has lost his mind, he’s actually using his manners! Oh calamity! Oh, whatever shall we do! Scott’s too young to lead the pack,” He moaned dramatically, hand placed against his forehead and obviously trying not to laugh at his own antics.

“Shut up, Stiles,” but when he said it that time, there was a hint of a smile on his face.

“You-” Love me. Wow, yeah not even going there. At all. It was... weird. He wasn’t sure why because he’d say that to Scott in a heartbeat. But Derek certainly wasn’t Scott... not by a long shot. Also he and Derek weren’t friends. Well, not in the same way as he and Scott were, that was for damn sure. What they were... was complicated. There was life-saving, that had to count for something though. “You’d miss me if I weren’t around,” he declared, ignoring his wandering thoughts.

“Oh! I almost forgot-” Stiles swallowed hard around the mouthful of omelet. “I know you know Allison is back in town but there’s at least one more hunter here too. Probably around your age. I think they might’ve found out about the Alpha pack somehow.”

Derek’s smile faded and for a moment he was hunter-still. “Good to know,” he said, followed with more of those stellar manners. “... Thank you for telling me.”

“Well, you are my Alpha now, right? Hey, how does that work with humans anyway? I don’t wanna be a dick but, you had them... before right?” He asked quietly. He wasn’t sure if this was the right time to ask. Derek had just been relaxed like he’d never seen him be before but... Stiles wanted to know more about him. About what his family was like.

“Follow the Alpha’s orders. Questioning is unavoidable with you, but don’t... _be a dick_ and disregard an Alpha’s orders. Hunt with the Alpha... your books upstairs probably have a nice flow chart or spreadsheet on the whole thing.” Derek wasn’t really too sure what a spreadsheet was, but that was beside the point. It seemed to work in context, given Stiles’ reaction.

“Oh ha ha, stop pretending you have a sense of humor,” He stuffed another bite of omelet in his mouth, chewing and clearly still rolling the information around in his head. “But no, I mean like... when Peter called Scott to his side. Or when he made him experience his memories. Does that work with humans? Can you do that to me?” Maybe there was a little part of Stiles that wondered if Derek was making him feel this odd tension. But... it had been there before he agreed too so... he just didn’t know.

Derek looked down at his plate and scooped up another bite before he answered. “It takes time,” he said and returned eye contact. “It takes time and a well built connection between the human and Alpha. It’s not as simple as it is for a beta wolf with a blood connection due to the Bite. And sex. Lots of sex.” And he smirked a little, and decided to not clarify.

“WHAT?!” Stiles’ mouth dropped open, eyes going as wide as they could. “You-”

“This is a really good omelet, Stiles. You might have to be the pack’s official chef and encyclopedia all in one.”

“I hate you,” he grumbled, bright red as he stomped over to the kitchen sink with his plate- and then turned right back around and grabbed up Derek’s too. See what being nice got you? Hot werewolves mocking your virginity. Werewolves were dicks.

Dicks that grabbed virginal wrists, of course. “Relax,” he said with that grin of his. _That grin_ , the one that melted hearts and made panties drop to the floor despite not being deployed often. “You don’t have to have lots of sex to connect with an Alpha. It honestly helps, but it’s not necessary.”

Stiles fumed for a minute before he tilted his head. “Well, good luck with Jackson. I bet he’s a cuddler.”

The grin was pretty much cemented in place at that point. “Look, it speeds up the process and that’s all it does. Of course... ” He started to let go of Stiles’ wrist, but let his thumb graze a bit of the skin above the vein instead. “I’m almost positive it’s a better time than sitting together singing camp songs to build up Pack rapport.”

“And sex is such a better option for group bonding activities.”

“Stiles?” Sheriff Stilinski stepped into the kitchen, brows raised up almost to his hairline as he took in the scene. His son was standing between... Derek Hale’s thighs while he grabbed at his wrist, clearly keeping him there. Derek Hale the officially not a murderer but now shooting up on an unofficial Person of Interest list in John’s head. “Something you wanna explain to me here?”

It took him a second but then Stiles realized where he was and what it could look like and he tripped himself trying to step back, landing on his ass. “Ooooow. Um, hi dad. You remember Derek right? Innocent Derek Hale. Who I said I didn’t know but clearly do. But not biblically. Not that way. Not that I know anyone biblically. Do you think that there’s a similar term for non-Christians? Like, knowing someone Torrah-ly. That sounds kind of weird.”

“Shut up Stiles,” Both the Sheriff and Derek ordered at the same time.

“I was trying to keep him from doing just that,” Derek sighed, shrugging at the scene. “I think he’s a bit dehydrated, because I already tried to stop him from falling over once this afternoon.” He took the moment to stand up and help Stiles up before he laid eyes on the front door. “But this has succeeded in becoming very awkward and I think that’s my cue to go.”

John escorted Derek to the door, bidding him a polite farewell before he turned back to his son. “I’m going to assume that you forgot that you told me Derek was a werewolf and you weren’t trying to hide something else from me. And if you are... just promise me you’ll be safe. With... proper protection.”

“I don’t think they make wolfsbane condoms but I’ll ask Derek next time I see him,” Stiles laughed hysterically and wondered if the older boy could still hear them from outside. And then didn’t really want to know. “I’m heading upstairs now to find new and more inventive ways of utterly and completely ruining my life.”

“You won’t need much help.”

“Ha-ha, everyone’s got jokes today!” Actually what he really needed was to unwind his brain after having to deal with Derek in a non-life threatening situation. Who knew that he could be... well, like that? Stiles bit his lip. Definitely needed to turn off his brain- WOW here he comes.


	6. In Which People Attempt the Family Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be posted regularly every few days if you're not subscribed or anything.

Alan Deaton had never thought he’d find a home. Certainly he’d grown up in a house and, for a time, found comfort and stability in his former lover, long gone but never forgotten, but a home was something else entirely. He’d searched the world over for a place to call his own, from the streets of Europe to the edges of Asia where he’d stayed with the Ashina clan. They had been the ones to introduce him to the concept of balance, of the Tulaa. It had saved his soul and he was grateful for it. It gave him perspective on what was needed in life.

He hadn’t planned on staying in Beacon Hills but life had decided otherwise. He felt a rightness when he set up shop, allowing himself to return to the calling of his youth. He had taught himself to mend, not to rend, and to let his soul calm. Passion without reason was destruction, a lesson hard learned. Which was why it was difficult for him to not want to shake sense into one Derek Hale when he flailed about in anger.

He understood why Derek was the way he was, why he could barely ask Deaton to help out when he brought Erica to him. He merely dropped her off without a word to either of them, only meaningful looks. Erica herself was not thrilled to be there, that much was certain but he’d been informed by Scott that she hated hospitals.

“How are you feeling now Erica?” He asked quietly, checking over her injuries that were barely that. She hadn’t wanted to go to the hospital and frankly that would’ve brought more questions than anyone was willing to deal with right then. He wasn’t a doctor but he did his best to heal.

“Better,” She was subdued, more like what she’d been before the Bite. He waited her out, letting her take the time necessary to say what she needed to. “I should’ve stayed. I should’ve fought harder but... I didn’t get away because I was stronger... something got to one of them.”

“You would both be trapped then. Or dead.”

Her fingers twitched as she sat up on the table, flicking big brown eyes at his face and then away. “Do you think Boyd’s that weak? He’s not. He’s quiet and he’s easy to be around but he’s not weak.”

“Then why are you worried about him? Why are you feeling guilty?” He asked, expression mild. He wondered briefly how few times anyone had really asked her why she did anything.

“I’m not- not exactly,” She chewed her lip, tugging at a long tendril of blond hair. “He’s my pack, my friend. I know what it’s like to feel like no one wants to stick around you in the long haul.”

Deaton made a hum of a noise in his throat, letting her decide when she would continue. She let him check each of her injuries, the motions rote as if she was far too used to being handled by dispassionate hands. “It’s my fault he left. I mean... we were both scared but... I was the one who hates this town. I hate it. I hate living here, I hate going home to find out who’s playing daddy this week with my mom... but Boyd has his sister. Yeah, she works, like all the time but she loves him. She wouldn’t have worked so hard to get him from his mom if she didn’t. It’s my fault he left and he might be-”

Deaton reached out and stroked a hand over her hair, letting Erica choke into her wrist, head turned away. “Pack is difficult for bitten wolves,” He told her after she subdued into sniffles. “More so when their own experiences with family tend to be... problematic.”

Erica noticed too, stiffening up. She tossed her hair back, eyes red but she pasted a smile on her lips. “Yeah, guess we’re all fucked up in the wrong ways to make it huh doc? Shoulda known better.”

He smiled, letting her hop off the table. “Or your ragged edges will fit together better than anywhere else you could be. There are reasons that we enter each other’s lives.”

“Tch, whatever. I’ll let you get on with your booty call,” She winked at him, projecting that confidence she wore like armor, gesturing towards his office where apparently he had a female visitor, something Erica had sniffed out before Deaton had noticed. The blonde waggled her tongue suggestively at him before seeing herself out.

“I’m surprised that she escaped,” Olivia pointed out when Erica had left, watching Deaton move through his routine, checking up on a wheezing dachshund.

“For all his other faults, Derek seems to be able to recognize a survivor when he sees one,” He pointed out. She snorted and he cocked his head. “You disagree?”

“I think Hale is headed for a bloody end and he’s dragging far too many children along with him. He is filled with destruction, Alan, you can see that,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “I simply don’t understand your faith in him, regardless of your promise to his mother.”

Deaton gently scratched the dachshund around the ears, considering his words with care. “Because he has the capacity to do just as much good as harm. He’s already given purpose to three lost children.”

“Or he’s handed power to children who have no business wielding it,” She countered. “They have all established files even before I took over as the guidance counselor. Erica had a bout with kleptomania for six months, not to mention the fights. Isaac swung between manic episodes and depressive ones enough that he should probably be on medication and had to be talked down off the roof once. And Boyd nearly flunked out of his entire sophomore year due to some job he’d taken working nights trying to buy a car just so he wouldn’t be invisible to a bunch of other hormonal shallow children. They are irresponsible and have no idea what it’s like to be functional.”

“Neither did I.” He chuckled a little bit at the nasty expression he got in return. “Our calling is not to dictate, Olivia. It’s to guide. To offer what wisdom we have learned _and_ learn from the people we encounter.”

“The Tulaa is about balance. They are not balanced, Beacon Hills is is a state of flux that could ruin many, many more lives. There are consequences to these decisions!”

“You’re not wrong,” He assured, moving closer and taking off his gloves. “But you’re young still. What we do requires serenity and acceptance. The Tulaa is not about imposing balance, it’s about accepting that there will always be a balance, we simply have to find it. We can help it- nudge it along a path that will do the most good for the most people but in the end, it will assert itself regardless of our own petty ideas.”

Olivia worked her jaw, breathing in deeply and Deaton knew that she was still struggling with her own serenity. He wasn’t sure what had driven her to follow the same path he did, and he would probably never know. “Any more word about Argent’s body? Anything disturbing the natural order?”

“... yes and no. The lines are certainly disturbed but there’s so much cacophony I’m not sure what is what yet,” She admitted. Touching her fingers to her temple, Olivia took a deep breath. “I am trying. I am doing what I know I need to. I feel it.”

“Then that’s all we can do,” Deaton smiled, gesturing for her to follow him out of the clinic.

***********

Lydia Martin was a punctual girl and as such, showed up at 5:45 p.m. on the dot at the Argent household. She flashed Mr. Argent a winning smile when he opened the door to greet her. He looked tired and strained around the eyes but didn’t seem unhappy to see her.

“Hello Lydia, it’s nice to see you again,” he gave her a perfunctory smile and stepped aside to allow her to sashay into the landing. 

“It’s nice to be seen,” She teased, winking and curling a strand of hair around her finger.

Giving a huff of a chuckle, he made a motion with his chin. “Allison and Everett are in the living room. They told me you’d be staying for dinner. It’ll be ready in about 20 minutes, give or take.”

She flounced into the living room where Allison and Ev were chatting on either ends of a couch. Seating herself next to Allison, she pierced Ev with a look. “You were using tactical advantages against me at the range,” She accused, lips pursed.

“Can you blame me? I knew what I was up against,” He grinned, glancing up at Allison. She was wearing a tight lipped smile that made Lydia wonder what was causing it. It certainly wasn’t her- she was as fabulous as she’d ever been and Allison had long ago accepted it.

“So! Did you two hang out this summer or did you follow her back to Beacon Hills? I’ve never heard Allison talk about her cousins or anything. Actually, I thought Kate was her dad’s only sibling,” She pointed out, glancing at the brunette for confirmation.

“Other side,” She gestured vaguely, a tightness to her eyes that made even Lydia feel a twinge of regret at poking at a sore spot, however unintentionally. “My mom’s brother. I haven’t seen him or Ev in... forever basically.”

“Yeah,” Ev agreed, taking over explaining that he was from the east coast originally and what it was like to grow up moving all the time like Allison did. Something about that niggled at Lydia’s brain but she was having too much fun flirting it up with the older boy to give it much thought. She did notice that Allison seemed rather distracted and didn’t contribute much to the conversation.

It didn’t get any better at dinner. Lydia of course, was a shining example of what it was to be a good hostess. She encouraged both men to share their opinions even if neither Mr. Argent or Ev had much concern with the intricate politics inherent in being named to the Beacon Hills Prom Committee (especially if one did not deign to be a cheerleader). Regardless, she maneuvered them effortlessly and Ev couldn’t stop smiling in her direction the entire meal. She still had the touch, that much was easy to see.

Cute as Everett was, Lydia needed to talk to Allison alone. She accepted the offer to skip out on dishes even if normally she might have used it to butter up Mr. Argent. She’d have more time later for such things however because when she was through with Allison, she’d have the brunette’s head back on straight.

Heading straight upstairs, she found Allison disassembling a rather terrifying stockpile of weapons on her bed. She didn’t even bother looking up when the redhead came inside which irked her. Still, Lydia thrust her shoulders back and planted her hands on her hips. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way Argent,” She declared, trying to be a little playful. Allison’s withdrawal from everything was disturbing.

“How about no.” Allison simply pressed her lips together, cocking her head defiantly.

“ _No_? Excuse me?” Lydia held up a hand. “Did you just tell me ‘no’ to explaining what the hell went on this last year? When you swore to me that you would! You asked me to trust you Allison and I did! I did and look what happened! I was- I was- used by that thing. I had nightmares for months.” She still had them.

Allison was enough of herself to look guilty but that was overwhelmed by anger. “I had nothing to do with that, that was thanks to the werewolves!”

“You knew that there were werewolves to begin with,” She was so not letting the blame shift away. Not today. “You knew and you left me in the dark even knowing that my ex-boyfriend was turning into a lizard and weird stuff kept happening all around me. You’re supposed to be my best friend. Why would you do that?”

“I-” Allison grabbed up a crossbow and began to fiddle with it, exhaling deeply. “I wanted to protect you.”

“Great job. No really. Fabulous.”

“I did my best Lydia, I did what I thought was right at the time,” She retorted, fingers wrapping tightly around the handle of one of the weapons beside her, lips trembling.

“And you screwed up!” Lydia tossed right back at her, glaring. She was trembling with emotions and she took a deep breath to calm down. Smoothing her hands over her skirt, she approached the taller girl. “I appreciate that you care enough about me to try to protect me but really? You’ve chewed my ear off I don’t know how many times about how you don’t want to be treated like a little girl, or fragile or like you have to be put up on some pedestal. Me personally, I like a little worship but I’m not okay with you taking information out of my hands. I’m never okay with that.”

Allison swallowed hard and curled into herself more, her hands finally stilling on the crossbow she held over her lap. “It... it wasn’t my secret to tell. Not at first. It was Scott’s... and then we were so busy trying to keep him from getting killed and other people from getting killed, it just... it seemed like there would always be time to fix it. Later.”

“Well, I’ll be the magnanimous and charitable person I am and forgive you- on the condition you don’t treat me like that ever, ever again and if you do I will find out and skin you,” she declared, giving a sweet, winning smile. Allison managed a twitch of her lips that might should’ve been a smile and Lydia dimmed. “Allison, tell me what’s going on. You’re not happy. You’re hurting-”

She was cut off as Mr. Argent knocked, walking into the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt but I wanted to let you know I’m leaving to take care of something.” Allison immediately shot up off the bed, life returning to her eyes.

“What’s going on? I can help.” She was reaching for her weapons and Lydia had the sudden inkling that something else supernatural was going on.

“No, you need to stay here.” He held up his hands to prevent Allison from charging out of the room.

“You can’t keep me locked away like you’ll never trust me again!” There was hurt behind the anger, that much was obvious.

“I am not having this discussion right now. You are staying- you and Everett. If I’m not back before two, I’ll call,” he assured, giving Allison a squeeze of her shoulder and a little nod to Lydia.

Arching a brow and watching, Lydia counted down in her head from ten. She made it only to seven before Allison was moving. “So we’re going with not daddy’s little girl tonight. Hmmm, how very shocking.”

“He’s out there hunting monsters, Lydia. The same kind that have tried to hurt you in the past,” She countered, stripping off her day clothes to throw on what looked like workout clothes in dark colors, a hoodie zipped up smartly overtop. Then she was grabbing at the weapons- placing a small gun to strap around her ankle, what looked like extra ammo in a pouch she buckled to her thigh and a quiver of arrows at her back.

“Okay, so if your dad is right and there is something big and nasty out there, maybe you should sit this out-”

“No.” Allison’s eyes were bright and fierce, making Lydia’s brows raise as she snapped her mouth shut. “I’m not hiding. I’m going to protect people from whatever I have to. Not... not for revenge but because it’s _right_.” Moving over the window, she watched as her dad’s SUV pulled out of the driveway. With a satisfied hum, Allison reached into a desk drawer to pull out a two-way radio phone, fiddling with its settings.

“Allison,” Lydia tried again, more concerned than before that she really was ready to go traipsing out into the night looking for trouble. The brunette must’ve saw something in her face because she was crossing the room to smile reassuringly at her while squeezing her shoulder.

“I’ll be okay. I can handle this. I was... I was kind of born to do this,” Her lips twisted in a sad way and Lydia was forced to scramble after her as Allison opened her window to climb out.

“That’s insane!”

“Lydia, stay here. Everett will keep you safe and I’ll be back soon, I promise,” She reassured, patting Lydia’s hand before flipping off the windowsill to land in the bushes. Before Lydia could call out after her, she was already running off to her car.

Whirling, Lydia fumed. “No that’s fine. You go off, playing Batman or Bat _woman_ or whatever and I’ll just stay here because I clearly have nothing else I’d rather be doing than worrying myself to death because my best friend decided she’s Buffy in her spare time!”

She was half tempted to leave right then and there regardless of what she’d just said. Lydia had been utterly abandoned by her best friend- in the middle of a conversation no less- and she did not have to put up with it. There were still people that would hang on her every word, that wouldn’t abandon her at the first available opportunity to... go fight the forces of evil or whatever. Granted she was having trouble coming up with anyone she wanted to spent time with in return (and Lydia did want to know as soon as she possibly could that Allison was alright) but they were out there!

She ended up making laps back and forth across Allison’s bedroom. Rearranged the pictures on the wall so they were more aesthetically pleasing, pawed through the closet (she and Allison needed a shopping trip _pronto_ ) and found herself actually remaking the bed when she was unhappy at how the pillows were arranged. Finally Lydia just couldn’t stand it any longer- she needed to get out of Allison’s room and do something. Everett was being scarily quiet or maybe he’d left too? Maybe she was alone in the house. Completely alone.

“Don’t you dare Lydia Anne Martin,” She whispered fiercely to herself, taking a deep breath. She was fine. She was capable. She... had swiped the taser gun off of Allison’s desk and felt much better about her prospects.

Moving downstairs, her brows knit together as she realized that Ev really wasn’t anywhere she could find. Not the living room, bedrooms, Mr. Argent’s office or any of the other rooms she could stick her nose into. However she was hearing something. Something like pained grunts. Maybe he was working out? Why he would pick right now of all times (especially when he ought to be a little more concerned with the fact he had a vulnerable young girl that he was supposed to be keeping an eye on or at the very least acknowledging the fact he had been seriously into her about two hours ago!).

Following the sounds of the grunts, she located the basement door. The hairs on the back of her neck were warning her that she really didn’t want to know what was down there. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself either. Quietly she urged it open, taser gun clenched up to her chest. She had to walk down a few steps before she could see anything really.

Ev was there and while he was sweaty and dirty, he definitely wasn’t working out. He had a black boy tied up in chains to the ceiling! Lydia stifled a squeak when she recognized the boy as Boyd from her English class. He didn’t look good- bruises, blood trickling from his eye and his nose, his mouth split... why was Ev hurting him? She watched as Ev reached over to what looked like a car battery. She traced the lines up to a patch on Boyd’s rib and realized that Ev was electrocuting him. Boyd writhed and groaned as Ev turned the dial, fangs flashing but unable to keep them there. Did the current make it hard for him to shift?

“I just... I don’t understand you people,” Ev was saying, turning down the current. His hands gestured expansively. “Okay a born wolf like Hale? They’re animals, you can almost forgive an animal. Not trust them, mind-” He smirked and continued, “-but understand they basically can’t help themselves. But you... you asked for it. For the bite, to lose your humanity and make a deal with the devil. For what? Tell me that at least.”

“Fuck you.”

“Watch your mouth! That’s no way to talk,” Ev twisted the dial higher until Boyd shouted from the pain. “See? You probably bought into the power nonsense, the ultimate predator or whatever. But the truth is... a dumb animal is a dumb animal even if it walks upright.”

Lydia had more than enough, firing the taser gun from the bottom of the staircase. She bit down on her lip as Ev was the one writhing from electricity shocking through his system and didn’t stop until he fell onto the floor. Releasing the trigger, she glanced up at Boyd, giving him a tremulous smile. “If you make me regret saving your ass, I will turn your pelt into a pair of earmuffs, got it?”

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life right now,” he declared, exhausted but with a grateful look to his gold eyes. “I’d give you a fur jacket if I could just to say thanks.”

Lydia preened and moved over to disconnect the battery from the power source and then from Boyd’s body. “Don’t tempt me to hold you to that- I have very expensive tastes and while I am generally against the fur industry, high quality fake fur is not off the table. Let’s see how to get you down-”

She stood up on her tiptoes but even so, she was too short to reach. “Even if I could get you unlocked I know I couldn’t help you walk home, not in these shoes-”

“My phone over there on the table. Grab it and look for Power Company.”

“The Power company? What are you eve-”

“It’s Derek’s number. He didn’t want our numbers falling into the hunters’ hands if they grabbed us or our phones so he had us label each other as mundane stuff,” Boyd explained, watching as Lydia scrolled through the contacts.

She dialed the number but frowned. “Can he get here before Ev wakes up or the hunters get back?”

Boyd gave her a tight smile. “Guess we’ll find out.”

********

Chris Argent picked his way deeper and deeper into the Preserve with his remaining hunters, unaware of the conflict going on in his own home. They were fanned out, in twos and threes, leaves and dry brush crunching underfoot as they worked their way through the forest, the night air still warm from the heat of the day. Chris watched them, eyes focused even as his thoughts were chasing themselves around his head. He realized he was going to have to deal with the fallout of Gerard’s death for a long time to come. Many of the hunters under him currently did not respect him in the slightest. They thought him weak and some were convinced that he might be a traitor to their Code.

Chris himself wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing anymore. His father was dead. He’d never really gotten along with Gerard but he’d respected him. He had to. His father had been a legend among hunters. He’d taken down dozens of werewolves in North America, chasing down a particularly vicious one all the way into the northern reaches of Quebec. He had been the standard that Chris had always had to live up to, the one that had taught him everything he knew, taught him the Code. And Gerard had made sure that both he and Kate knew what was needed and what wasn’t going to be tolerated.

But Chris didn’t have to deal with old wounds and old resentments anymore. He might have lost almost his entire family but that didn’t mean he had to lose everything. He still had the Code and still had his own judgment. He wasn’t sure if he had anything else, anyone else, and refused to let himself be distracted by the thought right now.

“There’s tracks up ahead that Joey says are definitely something big and not an animal’s!” Cavalero called out to him, jogging to meet Chris on the slight hill he was standing on top of. “He’s not sure what it is.”

“Let’s check it out,” Chris nodded, letting the other hunter lead him back towards the tracks. He’d heard about the body found earlier of course. His informant at the police station was still able to filter reports to him long before they made it to the papers.

“Over here- check out this print,” Joey waved them towards him. The depression was deep- clearly it was a big creature, and weighty. There were five digits, like a human foot but most of the weight was on the ball of the foot without hardly an impression from the heel at all. There were also scrapes as if left by claws. “Doesn’t look like an Alpha’s print,” he pointed out, frowning. “But it’s possible. It seems familiar but I can’t place it.”

“It’s too big to be a kanima’s either,” Chris agreed. “Something else then. Alright, keep searching but keep your partner in your line of sight at all times. We have more than just the wolves to contend with now.”

Standing up from his crouch, Chris’ head jerked up at an abrupt yell to his left- where three more of the hunters were scouting. But before he could even react there was a strange noise... it was something like a buzzing. It was growing steadily louder and louder in his ear, twisting it until it felt more like a shrieking howl of some nightmare creature. All around him his hunters were being sent to their knees, clawing at their ears as they writhed. Chris pulled out his gun, searching for the source but his vision was tipping sideways. He couldn’t concentrate and he could feel blood dribbling sluggishly from his left ear.

Then out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted a strange mist that seemed like it was glowing, almost flickering like fireflies. He wasn’t sure if it was his eyes playing tricks but he had to do something, taking a chance on the fact it was the culprit behind the assault. It slid over one of the hunters furthest out- Harrison- and there was a short scream as he disappeared. Then just as suddenly, half of his body was being hurled against a tree trunk.

“On your feet, shoot that thing!” He called out, forcing himself to follow his own orders and ignoring the grating noise in his ear.

Firing off several shots, he was filled with relief when there was sudden, nearly deafening silence. He lowered his gun cautiously, glancing out of the corner of his eyes as Joey climbed to his feet off the ground. Before any of them could react there was suddenly something in the midst of them. Huge and dark. It wasn’t furry or red-eyed like an Alpha werewolf but it was at least as dangerous.

“Horns! It’s got fucking hor-” Cavalero’s words were cut off as he was gored bloody by the beast’s wild movements.

“Get back, get distance to fire, move,” Chris barked, scrambling for higher ground himself. Before he could more than a few feet, he was finding himself flying through the air to land hard on his side. Huffing out a pained noise, Chris flipped over to try to see what was shredding through them.

It looked like some ghoulish representation of a bull, too big to be natural and he could see its literal muscles flashing in the scant light peeking through darker skin. Pushing himself up to aim more purposefully at its head, Chris was shocked when the creature simply shifted forms again. It became sleeker, more serpentine or maybe catlike as it swatted Joey with a paw. Blood sprayed freely and he swore. 

“Get out the rifles, the heavier guns, now!” He shouted out, still taking aim with his sidearm. It was doing nothing to deter the monster, it ignored the projectiles. It was already swallowing Joey’s body in horrible undulating motions of its jaw.

“Back off, back off!” he cried out, there was no use wasting ammo if it wasn’t doing any damage. “The trucks-”

There were terrified cries from some of the men and frankly Chris didn’t blame them- especially when the creature turned on him and there was actually a look of recognition in there. A second later it was lunging for him, knocking him over the edge of a hill to roll down to the bottom, hitting too many rocks and branches on his way down. He was out cold.

The creature slithered after him, bending its head to open its gaping maw of drooling teeth. But instead of getting flesh, an arrow flew straight inside instead, detonating in a flash of light and small explosives. That drew an actual pained noise from it.

That got the remaining hunters to join in, even one of them using a flare gun on it. Allison moved closer even as she notched another arrow to take aim. She didn’t have a lot of the explosive arrows; contrary to what Hollywood have you believe, they tended to be terribly unwieldy for accurate shots. Still, this monster was big enough that she didn’t have to be good, just close. She hit two more times, ignoring the eardrum piercing howl, and let a third (her last) fly true.

The monster transformed itself to mist under the assault, seeming to disappear down through the ground. As soon as it was gone, Allison let her heart beat again.

“Dad!” She called out, running and skidding over to where Chris Argent laid out alarmingly still.

******

Boyd slumped over heavily into the charred green sofa and nodded his thanks at Derek, holding his side, clearly glad to be out of the Argent’s basement (again). The wound on his side had already stitched itself over but it was still tender underneath that. Derek felt wrong to even say anything. He’d been looking for him. He wanted to assure Boyd of that badly, but it felt like a selfish thing and definitely not the right time for it. Instead, he pulled up Boyd’s arm and inspected the healing patch of skin with a look.

“I just got off the phone with Scott,” Isaac announced quietly as he came into the main room, shoulders rolled forward. “Allison’s dad is definitely in the hospital and it doesn’t look good at all.”

“Quite the opportunity for the young woman,” Peter mused. “If she had a mind to take it. From what I saw, she can be quite ruthless when she has the proper... motivation to be. Not unlike dear Lydia.” He gestured to the petite redhead looking like she was caught between being fascinated by the whole situation and like she wanted to crawl out of her skin upon spotting Peter.

“It is very good to see you again, it’s a shame you haven’t been by before, you’re already practically family,” his smile was sinister as Lydia’s eyes went wide, scent sparking sharply in that acrid way that signaled terror.

Surprisingly it was Boyd of all the wolves that snarled at Peter, heaving himself up off the couch to challenge him. Peter’s brows rose but he didn’t back away from the girl, making Boyd’s growl going deeper, more angry. He was no condition to fight the older, much more experienced werewolf but he would.

Derek put a firm hand on Boyd’s shoulder and simply stared him down, a small nod of assurance the only words he offered him. “Peter, you’ve got a bad habit of being completely inappropriate at the worst possible times,” he sighed, slowly turning his head towards his uncle. “Lydia saved Boyd... meaning you should back off that _creeper mode_ thing Stiles insists you do.”

Erica cleared her throat, throwing Lydia a look like it was somehow her fault that the boys couldn’t behave themselves. “I went to the hospital too, to see what I could hear and it seems like that thing that’s been eating people decided to try to eat them. Don’t really see the problem.” She shrugged, reaching down to squeeze Boyd’s shoulder and possibly ward off Lydia with the gesture.

Boyd made a noise in his throat, not exactly upset, brows knitting together. He was still sore and sluggish from his beatings and the damage that hunter kid had added onto the older ones and just wanted to sleep. But he was alive, thanks to the pretty redhead still hovering on the outside of their discussion. “I remember it attacked the two betas that were in charge of keeping an eye on Erica and me. It was... it wasn’t exactly smart but... ”

Erica cocked her head and she nodded. “Yeah, it wasn’t like just an animal either. I was too scared to think about it then.” It took a lot for her to admit that, especially with Lydia there.

“It sounds to me like you need to prioritize your threats,” Lydia piped up, arching a brow. “Well? Boyd said you had the... Alpha pack, whatever that is, breathing down your neck and randomly kidnapping people, then you have the hunters who will shoot you basically at any provocation and now this... monster. Which is the most immediate threat?”

Peter’s lips curled up like he was savoring a particular delicious scent, pride and covetousness radiating from his body. Lydia immediately shied back.

Derek had enough and vocalized his displeasure towards Peter in a growl that was, at least, intimidating enough for the older wolf to sniff indignantly and turn away, his own version of _backing down_. 

“Everything.” When he did address Lydia, he told it to her plain and simple. “Everything is a threat right now. The first priority was to get Boyd back and after so many screw ups and failures, you - thankfully - found him for us. For that, I thank you.”

Lydia looked a little startled and a lot like she was ready to get out of the room, big doe eyes continually darting back towards Peter. She gave a short bob of her head then squared her shoulders. “Well, it’s not like I could leave him tied up like that. Whatever is said about me, I’m not that heartless. Still I... I don’t want to be involved in this.” Her eyes flicked back to Peter again and she edged towards the doorway. “I can’t be. So... do better at keeping your friends or whatever under control.”

Derek nodded. “Alright, understood.” Honestly, he had no desire to drag more people than necessary into the battles to come. He gave Peter one last _look_ to ensure he wasn’t going to add too much of his patented witty commentary so Lydia could take her leave. The nervousness and _I need to get the hell out of here_ vibe was enough for Derek. The fact that she left with just one final glance followed by a swift retreat was all the proof he needed. 

He looked over his pack and ran a hand over his chin. “There’s a lot we have to discuss,” he said in probably the calmest tone he’d had with the three of them since the start of their journey as a Pack. “But the first thing I want to go over is the bullshit that’s kept us all down for the past few weeks. I thought I had a good idea of what I was getting into when I started a Pack, but I think it’s pretty obvious to all of us that I really didn’t.”

Derek ignored the snort of agreement coming from Peter behind him. He _had_ to ignore it. _Had to._

“I’ve learned a lot and I’m doing this right from here on out,” he continued, taking a seat on the rickety and smoke stained coffee table in front of them, “but I want you three to know I didn’t give you the Bite for selfish reasons. I wanted... ”

It took a moment before he could simply _say it_ , having to shove down the vulnerability in order to be the Alpha while giving assurance to Betas in his care. “I _want_ us to be a family, a family that looks out for each other and takes care of each other. Power is important, and don’t ever think with the dangers about to come for us it isn’t, but it isn’t the _only_ factor here and it was never top priority, not in the way it seemed.”

The three teenagers were quiet for a long moment, flicking their eyes at each other and then away. Isaac was the first one to open his mouth, surprisingly. “I want that. I want a real family more than I want to... hurting people isn’t me. I get that now,” he mumbled, ducking his head but glancing out from under his bangs towards Derek, seeking approval or just understanding.

Boyd nodded. “We shouldn’t have run off like that. Just because we got scared,” he glanced over at Erica and reached out to pat her hand on his shoulder with his own larger one. “We’re supposed to have each other’s backs, otherwise this won’t work, right? Well, I know what it’s like now, not to have anyone there. And it _sucks_.”

“Family is about looking out for each other and working together,” Derek agreed, focusing his words on that topic and that topic alone. “Because of what we are, we have a lot of enemies and that’s never going to change. We’re going to have to stick together to keep our asses out of the line of fire. I can’t promise everything will be peaceful, but I _can_ promise that I won’t make you fight unless it’s to keep the Pack safe.”

Erica stepped forward, giving a real smile, hesitant maybe, but not that sexy, mean spirited one she’d worn like armor. “We’re with you Derek. No more running off. We’re going to stick around until you want to chase us off cuz we’re driving you so crazy,” she wrinkled her nose up at him, brown eyes warm.

It was a small smile, but a smile just the same that Derek gave his Pack. “I’m tired of chasing people off,” he assured the three of them. “No more running away and no more...” He took a breath and resisted the urge to rub at the back of his neck. “From now on, we watch each other. Pack comes first.”


	7. In Which Jackson is a Drama Queen, Morell Plots and Allison Takes Charge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway down!

“What happened to you last night?”

“Huh?” Jackson blinked, resisting the urge to shake his head. But it didn’t seem to matter because Danny was clearly reading something from his face anyways. Sometimes he hated the fact Danny could get through his front so easily.

“I woke up and you were gone. Did you just decide to head home at one a.m. or something?” He asked, arching a dark brow, his expression curious but only mildly so. They were walking back from the diner on 4th to Danny’s car. The summer heat making the air stifling despite the fact the sun was going down. It was making Jackson acutely aware of every drip of sweat down the back of his neck, his knees and even where it was sticking his clothes to his skin.

“Tch, I know I’m broken up with Lydia but that does not mean you’re my new girlfriend,” he tossed off, smirking as Danny rolled his eyes. He actually really appreciated that Danny was... Danny. He understood Jackson even when Jackson didn’t understand himself.

“Yeah that’s exactly it. I live my life around your boneheaded decisions,” Danny smirked, butting shoulders with him.

“Whatever dude. Even your siblings know you want me,” Jackson flashed that perfect, even grin of his that never failed him yet. Danny somehow could fake it with an apathetic look though.

“Can we get off my dick for a second?”

“Most dudes want to get their dick off.”

Danny laughed, moving to lean on the top of his car to peer at Jackson over the roof. His dark eyes turned serious in a way that made the other boy want to either freeze or take off. Danny’s mouth was hidden behind his arms and he was still quiet when Jackson couldn’t stand it anymore. “What? Why are you staring at me?” he hissed.

“You know, sometimes I get really tired of your shit,” Danny replied. He wasn’t angry, more resigned and Jackson felt a tendril of fear coiling up inside, threatening to throttle him. “You scare the hell out of me before the last game of the season, you’re declared fucking _dead_ and somehow aren’t and then you show up in my room not two days after you’re out of the hospital when you’d been ignoring me for weeks before? I know you keep running out at night, I’m not stupid or blind I just want to know why. What’s going on? You’ve been treating me like shit for the past eight months, Jackson.”

“Yeah, well at least I never ignored you in favor of getting my dick wet,” He snapped back. He shouldn’t have said it but what else could he say? That he got turned into a monster because he couldn’t handle McCall coming out of nowhere and being better than him? Even if he had been cheating to do it.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Oh my god, really? I had a boyfriend! A steady one, for once, and Brandon was the first one that actually accepted the fact you weren’t my booty call on the side,” Danny snapped, pushing away from the roof of his car, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

“Should’ve wondered why he was so accommodating- oh wait, that’s because he was getting _his_ dick wet on the side,” Jackson smirked smugly. “I tried to warn you.”

“And I tried to warn you about Lydia.” He tossed right back, making Jackson still. Danny swore and ducked his head. “I’m sorry. That was... I know you’ll always be in love with her in your own fucked up way...” He swallowed and looked off, an expression flitting over his face that Jackson couldn’t read. “Want me to drop you off at your place?”

Jackson sneered and slammed the door to the car shut hard enough that the windows rattled. “Don’t bother. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking that I was taking advantage of you or anything. After all, everyone loves Danny, Danny never does anything wrong, Danny never acts like a fucking tool.”

“Fuck you Jackson,” Danny snapped back, tired and hurting. The other boy stomped off and he slumped miserably against his car door, wondering what the hell had happened. He hadn’t meant to pick a fight with him but talking to Jackson was sort of like picking your way through a minefield on a good day, much less when he was really scared about something. Danny knew the signs, he could tell there was something that was terrifying his friend and he just... wanted to help.

Rubbing his hand over his face, he didn’t notice his school counselor across the street from him, watching the interaction with an inscrutable expressive.

*************

Olivia Morell was not what she seemed to be, which made it that much easier to be anything she needed to be- including a new nurse practitioner during the late shift at Beacon Hills Memorial, not even a day later. That was part of her job however- not the one she played at, the school counselor, the well-meaning therapist. Her job was of a higher calling. She was here to bring balance back to Beacon Hills and the world at large. The supernatural and the natural world needed to remain in balance- the werewolves and the hunters had formed a respectably symbiotic relationship that kept both parties in check through the centuries. With a few nudges here and there from the Tulaa.

The werewolves in Beacon Hills were running amok, dangerously out of control, so much so that an Alpha pack had been called in- and the one that had been called in was more dangerous and filled with their own agendas than was beneficial to her plans. That did not bode well- especially as her tether on Talbot was fraying quickly. So many supernatural beings in one place required equal amounts of hunters to answer in kind.

Unfortunately, Chris Argent was in no condition to summon the hunters to his side. Even when he woke up from his injuries, Olivia was certain that his recent disillusionment with Gerard Argent’s sloppy, sloppy plans would make him reluctant. She didn’t really care about his feelings, only that the scales were tipping out of harmony.

Slipping into Argent’s room was easy enough. He looked old and weary, tubes and other contraptions binding his body to the bed, preventing movement almost entirely. That suited her just fine. Closing the door quietly, Olivia approached Argent’s sleeping form, pulling out her supplies.

It was a variant on the control spell she’d placed on Jackson actually, an elegant bit of magic if she said so herself. The bergamot, licorice, frankincense and calamus root were combined with sticklewort, celery and valerian root. She’d infused the oil to anoint him with but she needed a longer dose of it to dole out to him at steady intervals- hence the amulet she slipped over his neck. It was inscribed with the words _“Nous Chassons ceux qui nous chassent”_ which would take care of any questions that might arise as to why it was there.

Putting Argent into the coma was simple enough, the magic keeping him sleeping and frankly, it might even benefit his fractured body some. From there she simply slipped right back out of the room and made her way past Melissa McCall attempting to comfort Argent’s daughter. That made the next step of her plan even simpler- Allison wasn’t likely to leave the hospital any time soon. She was surrounded by hunters as well, which made slipping into the Argent house child’s play once Olivia had done away with her disguise.

It was simple enough to locate Argent’s journal. He was his father’s son, as she suspected- the Argent family were quite arrogant and loved to take down their history. The information in the journal was precise and laid out in a careful fashion, surprisingly free of boasting for the most part.

Flipping through the information with a practiced eye, Olivia found what she was looking for easily enough. There was already names and numbers there- it was easy to change out the numbers with a swipe of her hand, watching them reform on the page in a new order. Another chess piece set in motion. If the first one did not do as nudged, her backup would work just as well.

********

“You sure you’ll be okay in here alone sweetie?” Mrs. McCall asked and Allison fought down the urge to bury her head into the older woman’s shoulder and cry. Again. It seemed as if she might run of out tears at some point, but she hadn’t yet. She shook her head, pasting a smile she didn’t feel to her lips. “Alright, I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything. Or if you want me to call... anyone else.”

The hesitant way she said that had Allison’s mind unwillingly flashing to an image of Scott’s face. She hiccuped and shook her head again. “No. I’d like to be alone with my dad.”

Melissa hesitated but then she nodded, stepping out of the room with a reminder that she should call for her if she changed her mind. Allison wasn’t going to- she needed the space to breathe and get control of herself. She almost lost it again when she glanced down at her father’s broken body, hiccuping.

“Hey Dad,” she greeted him, brushing her fingers over his temple. “The doctors are pretty optimistic. They said that you’re out of danger for the most part.” She snorted bitterly at the irony in that statement. Her lips twisted into a sharp frown. “We lost five men, including Joey and Harrison. I’m sorry... I know they’ve been with you a long time.”

Back when she’d thought they were just friends of the family, in the weapons’ business. Not entirely untrue but that was her life wasn’t it? Things that were true and yet not, all to cover up their ‘sacred mission’. “You said I was supposed to be a leader. Because I’m a female Argent and that’s how we handle our family but you never taught me how. You and mom-”

Her voice caught in her throat and she tensed up, fighting back down the rage that crested in her. “You let me be an ignorant, spoiled little girl. I don’t know why. I mean... I get it- you wanted me to be normal but I wasn’t ever going to be normal so why would you let me pretend and then rip it away from me like that? Why would you be so cruel?”

She curled up in the chair, listening to the machines beep out unsatisfying answers to her questions. “I could’ve helped. I could’ve done so much more to protect our family. I could’ve learned the stuff that Ev spent the last week teaching me years ago.” She curled up her lips mirthlessly. “Of course... maybe you were training me and I just didn’t know it. The archery... the gymnastics... the wilderness survival... it was all to teach me how to protect myself when the time came wasn’t it? You asshole.”

She couldn’t continue on, sobs wracking her lungs and making her tremble. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, crying for a life that had always been a lie but eventually all tears dried. Swiping at her face, Allison stood up and kissed her father on the forehead. “I’m going to do it my way from here on out. No one is going to use me again.”

Exiting out of his room, she gave quiet instructions to Cavalero- making sure that there was always a watch on her father. She might not think that Derek was likely to attack her father in such a vulnerable state but she wasn’t going to leave him the option just in case. From there she drove herself home.

After Gerard came, she’d been allowed access to much more of the family history and information about their traditions than before. She’d found out about the hunters’ journals they had beyond her grandfather’s impressive bestiary. Most of them were actually from her various ancestors but the one she sought out was her father’s. The older ones were more of a study in how the world of hunting had changed and what kind of things they witnessed than any practical help. Her father’s was terse but informative- including emergency numbers. Rubbing her face, Allison picked up the phone and began to dial.

Two hours later and she was still with no help and growing more and more scared that she was going to have to fight off that monster alone. Licking her lips, she cursed when she got yet another voice mail. “-Um, hi, Mr. Singer, this is Allison Argent. I know you don’t know me but my Dad, Chris Argent, had your number in his emergency contacts. If you get this message please call me back, I need help.”

Turning, she accidentally knocked the journal off the desk with her elbow, sending the papers scattering to the ground. As she picked them up, a sticky note with a number fell out. Giving it a curious glance, Allison considered it- she was getting desperate, there was only one other number on the long sheet of contacts. It certainly couldn’t hurt to try so she dialed the number and was surprised when she got a terse but live answer. “Um, is this Mickie Taylor?”

 _“Yeah. Who’s this?”_ The woman’s voice wasn’t unkind exactly, it actually somewhat reminded Allison somewhat of her mother. She swallowed a lump and had to take a breath before she could answer.

“My name is Allison Argent-”

 _“Did Kate put you up to this?”_ The words were bit out harshly and Allison startled.

“Wha-? No, no, my dad-”

 _“Chris knows better than to call me. Not after Michigan. Who the hell are you kid? Talk fast or I’m hanging up,”_ Mickie ordered.

“My dad is in a coma, attacked by some monster I’ve never seen before and can barely hurt and there’s an Alpha pack prowling on the outskirts of town that I don’t know if they’re here for me or the local pack. I don’t know what to do and I need help. Please,” Her voice was steady, as steady as she could make it.

The woman on the other end was silent so long Allison wondered if she’d hung up. She opened her mouth- to say what she wasn’t sure- but Mickie spoke instead. _“You’re in Beacon Hills, right?”_

“Yes, it’s up by-”

 _“I’ve got GPS,”_ Mickie was still short but she was a little less gruff. _“Taneva and I are in Utah, it’ll take us a few days, maybe a week to get there. Can you hold out til then?”_

Allison nodded before she remembered she was on the phone. “Yeah. I guess we’ll have to.”

_“Good. Now tell me what you saw.”_

Allison did her best- the fight had been chaotic and animal kept seeming to change both size and shape while it attacked them. Mickie didn’t say much, just asked a few questions- if the creature had reacted to any of the usual weapons and whether or not Allison thought it was part of the wolf pack.

“I... I don’t know. We had a problem with a kanima just a couple months ago,” she admitted. Mickie made a considering noise in her throat.

_“Alright. If that’s what we’ve got, then we’ll work with that. Keep safe kid, we’ll be there soon.”_

Hanging up after she heard the click on the other end, Allison sighed, finger moving down to the next name on the list. Mickie said a few days... which wasn’t long exactly except this monster wasn’t likely to wait until then for its next attack. Picking up the phone, she glanced down at the name under her finger.

 _Frank James_. Her uncle. Why wasn’t he higher on the list? He was family after all. She frowned thoughtfully, tapping her finger against her lip. Her mother’s brother hadn’t been as close as Kate when she was younger. In fact, she could only remember two or three times she’d ever met him in her life.

“What are you doing?”

Allison pulled her hand away from her mouth and turned towards Ev, phone still clutched in the other. She gave him a weary smile. “I just got off the phone with Mickie Taylor, she’s a hunter that ran with my dad a few years back apparently. I was about to call your dad.”

“What?! No, you can’t!” Ev pushed into the office and seemed like he wanted to rip her father’s journal out of her hands. Instinctively Allison pulled it to her chest, frowning heavily.

“What do you mean I can’t? We need help here Ev, my dad is in a coma.”

He paced in front of her, clearly agitated as he raked a hand through his hair. He seemed almost... scared. That worried Allison to be honest- there wasn’t much that scared hunters after all and if Frank James did this to his own son- “I... I know. I mean, we can do this. I can help. You’ve got to trust me.”

“Ev-”

“Look, let me try, alright? If it gets out of hand or we do need more backup then, yeah... I’ll call my dad myself.” He reached out, covering her hand with his, his eyes begging her for the chance. Allison considered it, chewing on her lips. Mickie had said she was coming and she didn’t want to bring in too many hunters at this point. It would be better to still have one last ace up their sleeves if they needed it.

“... alright. But if one thing goes wrong, I don’t care what you’re trying to prove to anyone, you answer to me.”


	8. In Which There is Fighting of All Kinds

Allison was still kind of surprised that grown men and women were taking orders from an eighteen-year-old. But the Argent name carried weight despite the recent grumblings and Ev stood at her side, solidifying her as the de facto leader while her father was out of commission. She filled them in on the support heading their way and reminded them that they were to be careful when they went out on patrol.

That apparently, did not apply to her as she ended up in the woods near the rocks she and Scott had often stolen away to. She wasn’t sure why she let herself come all the way out here- even with her bow and quiver, it wouldn’t protect her from the emotions this place held.

“I hoped you’d come out here one of these nights. I’m sorry... for what happened to your dad.”

Allison whirled to find Scott standing there. Smiling hesitantly at her. It made her want to get as far away as she possibly could... and yet wrap herself in his arms for the rest of her life. It made the core of rage and hate flicker in her chest. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I’ll go.”

“Allison!” Scott was suddenly in front of her- not touching her but his eyes were warm, caring and it was clear he was happy to see her, in spite of everything. “I missed you. I’m glad you’re back home.”

“Beacon Hills isn’t my home,” she lied. She’d hated moving so much as a child, always wanting a place to finally settle down and claim. Wanted to know all the corners of and feel like she wouldn’t have to say goodbye to friends over and over again. Despite her childish wants, she hadn’t expected it to be different this time but it was. Beacon Hills was different. “I don’t have a home.”

“Yes you do, you have one with me,” he insisted, ducking his head to look her in the eyes with such love it made her ache. She held up her hands, warding him off. He felt like warmth and safety and everything that would shatter her.

“Scott- I’m not doing this with you. I can’t. Don’t you understand? Nothing’s changed. Nothing,” Allison insisted, sitting down on their rock and curling her arms around her body.

“I still love you. I never stopped,” he insisted. She scoffed, feeling her eyes gloss over with tears.

“It’s not enough.”

“It is for me.” He was so quiet and so heartfelt Allison just exploded off her perch.

“How can I trust you when the first thing I find out when I come back is that you’ve joined Hale’s pack?” She demanded, harsh and unforgiving. He opened his mouth to answer but she forged on. “ _You_ made that choice Scott! You chose to go with _him_! With that monster after everything that’s happened!” Allison’s voice was breaking and still so full of anger it was like it was a bottomless pit threatening to swallow her whole.

“I had to! It was too dangerous for everyone!” Scott replied, trying to reach for her but she smacked his hands away, eyes wild. She shook her head, huffing out a breath.

“I hate this. I hate this so much. I can’t let these monsters roam around here without answering it- there’s been more deaths, and there’ll be more and more as long as those monsters are allowed to be out there. This is why my family began to hunt them. Do you understand Scott? I have responsibilities now, to these people that don’t know about all of this, that can’t protect themselves from them. And I can’t be responsible for protecting you, not when you’re with them,” she told him in a low voice that wobbled but not enough to say her resolve would.

“It’s not... it’s not forever,” Scott tried, swallowing hard. He knew that Derek wanted him to cement his commitment to the pack but how could he? If he did... he’d lose her forever.

“And what happens next time? What happens when another monster comes into town or gets turned and Derek needs you to come running to clean up his mess? What then? You can’t keep jumping in and out of a pack. It doesn’t work that way. And I can’t keep turning a blind eye to what he’s doing,” Allison’s lips were set firmly, no tears in her eyes anymore.

“I won’t let it get that far. I won’t.” Scott reached for her but she gave him a heartbroken, bitter smile that said she had no faith left anymore. “We’re trying to prevent this from getting worse. I promise you that. We’re going to find that thing and then we’ll deal with the Alpha pack. We’re going to make it right.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t trust that anymore,” She shook her head and curled her arms in front of her. “I’ll not interfere with the Alpha pack unless it’s necessary but if push comes to shove, I will hunt anyone who threatens Beacon Hills.”

Scott’s face was painful to look at- lost and aching. Allison knew he wanted to find the words to make her smile at him again, to make it so they could go back to the way they were. But she knew that wouldn’t happen. Not now... maybe not ever again.

“Goodbye Scott,” She offered, turning to make her way back to her car. If she heard a lonely, heartbreaking howl she didn’t let it stop her. This was her path now, regardless of what it would cost her.

********

Despite telling herself over and over again that involving herself with the crazy portion of the population of Beacon Hill (which may be growing) was going to do nothing for her, Lydia found herself trotting up the steps of the Blue Moon Apartment complex to number 13B. She knocked sharply and listened as a body moved slowly towards the door. Boyd’s face was rather surprised to see her there but she merely placed a hand on her hip.

“What? I wanted to make sure that you hadn’t ruined all my handiwork by doing something dumb again,” she offered. That wasn’t entirely true but... she had wanted to make sure Boyd was alright. It was somewhat foreign for her. Maybe it had to do with the fact at least the werewolf and the werewolf adjacent types had been forgiving of her crazy this last year (even if they had ignored it too). Whatever the reason, she took the invitation to come inside when Boyd made it.

“You live alone?” she asked, surveying the tiny one bedroom apartment. It was an old apartment with avocado green tiles in the kitchen area and some sort of gray-brown carpet that had never been an appealing color even when it was first installed.

“No, I live with my sister,” he admitted, shuffling slowly back to the couch- which she realized was also a futon. Lydia’s face felt a little warm when she realized her faux pas but she pushed past it. “She’s at work right now.”

“Right. Well, it’s good that she can look after you,” she pointed out, some pop of color catching her eye from the kitchen.

Boyd snorted quietly, a wry twist to his lips. “Pretty sure she’d rather beat me around the head when I came home after being missing. It was only the fact I was already beat that she didn’t. Mattie’s good at waiting people out. Like you are I suspect,” Boyd sounded more amused than not at that and Lydia huffed. He merely smiled at her and Lydia had to note that she’d never seen him do it before... and it was a nice smile in fact.

“You shouldn’t mock someone who’s bringing you information for your little werewolf cult,” she pointed out, tilting her head as she finally realized that the flash of color that caught her eyes was an unfinished stained glass piece that the sunlight was hitting intermittently. “Oh... did you do this?”

Boyd nodded. “Yeah. What sort of information?”

The piece was quite beautiful- the tiny pieces of glass laid in a pattern that would have required a lot of patience and care. She glanced back up at the boy with renewed interest. She hadn’t had any clue about Boyd really before she’d helped rescue him. They’d shared classes for two years and she’d never thought to even glance at him before now.

“Lydia?” She started and shook her head.

“Sorry, yes. Well, Jackson and Danny had a fight the other day- right after Allison’s dad was attacked by that thing you mentioned.” Boyd nodded and she went on, moving to perch at the sofa so he wouldn’t have to follow her around the room. “Well I managed to convince Danny to tell me what happened.”

Boyd snorted, giving her a speaking looking that said he was not buying that. She huffed. “I didn’t say _how_ or how long it took. Anyways! Jackson’s been... well, he might be sleepwalking.” She bit her lip and looked down. It was hard to contain the worry for him, even now. Maybe that’s why she was here. In the short time she’d spent with Boyd before Derek had shown up, he’d been incredibly calm and... stable. Even in the face of the pain he was no doubt in, he had been able to talk to her.

Maybe she felt like he wouldn’t judge her for her worry and not immediately leap to any ideas. Which he wasn’t. His dark eyes were steady on her face, waiting. “I just... I thought you should know, in case-” She swallowed hard and didn’t fight it when Boyd covered her hands with his own.

“I don’t want him to be hurt but... Jackson wouldn’t want to be used like a weapon again. It would kill him.” She knew that he’d hate her for telling anyone about such a vulnerability but she had to.

“Are you sure it’s him out there? I thought that he was a werewolf now,” he pointed out- brows furrowing just slightly.

“No. But it makes sense. He’s sleepwalking and acting erratically and then a monster shows up killing people,” she pointed out, weary. What if what she’d done hadn’t really helped him? What if he was always going to be something dangerous... maybe too dangerous to live?

Boyd’s hand squeezed hers again and he nodded. “First we need to let Derek know about this and then we can go from there.”

She nodded, taking a shaky breath. He reached up and brushed hair from her cheek, tucking it behind an ear before he stood up to shuffle to his cell phone. Lydia didn’t bother hiding the fact she was listening to his side of the conversation as he dialed.

“Derek?... I’m fine. Still sore but that’s not why I called- Lydia’s here... she’s fine, she wanted to let us know about Jackson... we don’t know, she said Danny knew that Jackson was sleepwalking and has been for at least a week now... it’s not much but... yeah, that’s what I thought too... right. I’ll be here if you need me. Thanks,” Boyd hung up, shoulders relaxing as he turned back to look at her.

“They’re going to follow him tonight,” he clarified. He was watching her face closely and Lydia wondered what he saw when he went on. “Do you want to stick around for some dinner?”

“I-” She didn’t have anywhere else she wanted to be. Her mother was out and her father was on a business trip. Her ‘friends’ were all out on vacations to Europe and down state, which at one time she’d been more than happy to be on. Now all she could do was nod her head. “I’ll stay.”

Standing up, she pushed up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you Boyd.”

********

_“I’m serious Stiles, I don’t want you going out.”_

Stiles hated it but he was already letting the lie ramble out of his mouth. “Dad, don’t worry it’s just going to be me and Scott and maybe a few friends hanging out. Nothing to worry about! It’ll be soda and snacks and wholesome good times!”

_“Stiles.”_

“Dad.” He heaved a sigh back at the older Stilinski, wincing as the line was quiet for several long moments.

_“Alright. Call if there’s trouble and try not to actively go looking for any.”_

“I won’t need to. It’s going to be a quiet night,” Stiles assured his father blithely, ignoring how the resigned sigh coming from the other end of the line made his stomach twist up unhappily. But he was doing this so that his father wouldn’t be the one out there looking for this monster, possibly getting himself hurt or killed in the process. “Talk to you later.”

He hung up just as Scott knocked on the door. Grabbing up his jacket (now lined with a taser, a switchblade and pepper spray), Stiles scrambled out the door to join him. He could tell that Scott was preoccupied but wasn’t sure how to get him to open up. Usually Scott was all about expressing himself and what was going on in his brain.

So Stiles opted for running his own mouth until Scott decided when he wanted to share with the rest of the class. “Okay, I get why I got Danny babysitting duty- his house is almost directly across the street from mine and yeah, Isaac and Erica have a better chance of following after Jackson than you or me without being noticed- or getting slapped with that restraining order- _douche_ \- but who thought it was a good idea to stick Uncle Pedo and Derek on the tail of the hunters?”

“That would be Derek,” Scott pointed out as they peered through the hedge around the Mahealani yard. They were cleaning up after what looked like a barbeque. Danny and his older sisters were chasing the younger kids around the backyard in between bringing stuff inside for their parents. Stiles felt a pang go through his chest and knew that Scott felt the same sometimes when they watched other families.

“Exactly,” he dredged up. “Derek might be able to control himself, maybe, but letting Peter at the hunters is asking for trouble.”

“You’re just mad that they decided that your idea of driving around town in an ice cream truck with a sign for ‘fresh bloody steaks’ wasn’t ever going to happen,” Scott’s lips twitched up in amusement but only briefly.

“I still maintain that was better than hanging out watching Danny being all ABC family channel. Not that Danny is bad to look at,” Stiles admitted, shrugging his shoulders. He could appreciate all kinds of attractive people, there was no harm in it. Unless he actually attempted to talk to them. Then that usually led to harm for _Stiles_.

They were quiet for almost twenty minutes as they moved to keep Danny in their line of sight. Jackson didn’t appear to be with them but he could show up at any time. Not that that did much for Stiles’ brain considering he wasn’t great at focusing on one thing exclusively for so long. Scott was looking very pensive- which was sort of painful looking to be honest.

“Alright, that’s it. What is up with you?” Stiles demanded, throwing up his hands.

“What? Nothing!”

“Dude, I’ve known you since you were eating dried glue off your fingers, spill.”

Scott sighed and glanced up at the stars twinkling overhead. He sounded like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I was just... life y’know? We’re going to be heading out to college soon and I don’t know how that works when you’re a werewolf. Is there like, rules you have to follow if you’re in another pack’s territory? Can I even go to a college out of state? What if I don’t even get a scholarship, you know my grades last year were horrible, my mom can’t afford to send me, what if I end up stuck here at the clinic for the rest of my life sweeping up cat hair, not that Deaton is bad to work for but-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa dude!” Stiles clamped his hand over Scott’s mouth to prevent any more panicked words from spilling out. He waited until Scott nodded his head that he wasn’t going to talk anymore. “Okay, first up, you’re not going to get stuck here cleaning up cat hair. I promise. Once we get all this weirdness sorted, we’ll have a normal school year with normal teenaged stuff to worry about rather than what’s killing us at the moment.”

“But-”

“-And if something comes up that tries to do just that, we’ll handle that too. We have a lot more people to rely on now with the pack, right?” Stiles pointed out. “I know I told you you had to be responsible now that you have werewolfy powers and all but I didn’t mean you had to be responsible for _everyone_ all the time. No one can do that, not even Derek.”

Scott still appeared to be upset and Stiles sighed. “Look, I get it. I really do. You know me, I have panicked about everything from zombie invasions to college entrance exams. I totally know where you’re coming from. But you have to trust me. We’ve made it through it so far alive and relatively unarrested so we’ll get to college too. And then we’ll worry about being grownups or whatever.”

“Uh... hi?”

Stiles fell over backwards as Danny peered over the hedge, Scott looking sheepish that he hadn’t been paying attention enough to realize someone was coming closer. “Hi Danny.”

“Is there a reason you two are spying on my house?” There was that skeptical brow that Stiles was so familiar with.

“We’re not spying!”

“Who us? Spy? Pff! Where does this guy get these craaaaazy ideas from? I mean, really,” Stiles blustered, slinging an arm around Scott’s shoulders and pulling a face. Danny was not the least bit impressed by that masterful bit of misdirection.

“Look, you two be as weird as you want to be, okay, just leave my family out of it,” He sighed, rolling his eyes like it was taking every ounce of civility not to just walk away from them right then and there.

“Sorry Danny, we were just... I mean we’d heard that Jackson was hanging around here a lot lately,” Scott piped up even as Stiles flinched, turning away. Scott clearly did not get the covert part of covert operations. “We were wondering how he was doing.”

The taller boy peered at Scott but there was no one on earth who could appear to be more sincere or earnest. He nodded. “Yeah, up until two days ago. He’s had it rough lately and I was helping out.”

“So... how rough was it?”

“... uh, I’m not really sure I should be talking to you about it.” Danny held up his hands and Stiles opened his mouth to cajole when his cell began to play _‘Werewolves of London’_. Scott shot him an unamused look as Stiles mouthed ‘what’ at him. “Hey we-”

_“It’s down by the Argent house, get here now.”_ Derek, as always, the master of staying on point.

“Would it actually kill you to say please? _‘Please come Stiles, I need you,’_ ” he complained even as he tugged Scott behind him, fishing his keys out of his pocket.

_“Stiles!”_

“All the romance has gone out of our relationship,” He retorted, waving vaguely at Danny but jogging to get to his jeep quicker. Not because he was being ordered but because the sooner he got there, the sooner they could figure out whether or not it was Jackson running amok.

There was an audible click from the other end of the line and Stiles huffed. “Rude!”

It didn’t take them very long after Stiles hung up to get across town to the Argent’s house. It would have been sooner but there were shots being fired at his baby. Swearing, he swerved his jeep and nearly crashed into a light pole. “What the fu-”

“It’s the hunters!” Scott shouted, bounding out of the vehicle. Stiles already spotted Isaac being tossed through the air like a ragdoll and suddenly he was scrambling out of the jeep too. Scott headed for the main part of the fray, of course, and Stiles headed for Isaac. He skidded to a stop next to the taller boy and yanked them both behind the cover of a nearby SUV. “What’s going on?!”

“That... it’s not Jackson,” Isaac’s eyes were wide and yellow, lips pulled back in what Stiles recognized as distaste. “It smells like death. Like a corpse!”

Derek didn’t vocalize his entrance. He leapt towards the monstrosity and grappled with it, using its own charging momentum along with his boot to send it sailing over his head. Before it could scramble back to its feet and charge towards him once more, he was already using the nearby wall of the house, running up the side and lunging off and away. He landed behind it and stared it down as it turned around to prepare for another charge. “The _fuck_ is that supposed to be?!”

Obviously the question was directed towards the walking Bestiary Encyclopedia Nerd.

“Since when do I have monster wiki stamped on my forehead?!” Stiles was running, with a side of more running, of course they were running. What was a good monster fight without the long chase sequence? “Also I’d like to point out that one of us was born to this and it wasn’t _me!_ ”

He didn’t have a chance to say anything else because something huge was knocking Derek off his feet and whirling towards Stiles instead. Scott pounced onto its massive head, taking its attention and grabbing onto... horns? What the hell. Of course the hunters took the opportunity to start firing at it then.

“Wait, wait, you’ll hit Scott!” Stiles cried out, waving his arms desperately at the men. They ignored him, sneering. “You assholes!” He snarled, climbing over a car towards the nearest hunter. To do what, he wasn’t sure but he had a taser in his hand when Peter yanked him back.

“As distasteful as I find their behavior, why don’t we focus on the immediate problem, shall we?” He encouraged, hand heavy and clawed where it was pushing at Stiles’ chest. He nodded, realizing that his focus should be figuring out what they were up against rather than taking out their (kind of) allies.

He scrambled closer to the fight again, wincing as Erica’s scream shredded at his nerves. He couldn’t tell if it was a shriek of pain or anger but he really didn’t want to find out. It was difficult to see much, all the lights on the street seemed to be out and he wondered if they knocked out a power line during the fight or if the hunters had cut it on purpose. It cut down on his ability to see much other than the smaller forms of his packmates tossing themselves at the monster and being rebuffed.

The massive thing finally careened into the light shining from the only one on the street still working. Its skin, while gross and pockmarked with gouges and tears that should have made it fall over, was unmistakably deep blue.

“Waitwaitwait, I know this!” Stiles gaped, pausing. “It’s uh, uh, a draugr!”

“What?!” Scott had landed near Stiles and pushed his friend’s head down to avoid another swing of claws. He shoved Stiles into a run as the draugr turn its attention to them. “English!”

“It’s a revenant, like a really, really pissed off zombie monster,” He huffed out, ducking behind another car that was somehow not yet damaged. The local insurance agents were going to have a field day tomorrow morning. “Not as bad as Resident Evil spawns but definitely not good!”

Derek had no time for zombie monsters, trolls, boogeymen, or anything along those lines. He snarled, sharp teeth bared towards the creature, effectively gathering its undivided attention before he charged at it again. The battle continued as such, Derek barely managing to stay a half a step ahead and likewise barely managing to miss any dangerous wounds. A swift claw to his side caused him to wince slightly, but his adrenaline kept him going, grabbing that same clawed hand to fling it across the Argent’s yard. Its bulky form skidded along the grass, allowing Derek enough time to heal up before he charged again.

He was joined by Erica, Isaac and Scott at that point, the hunters reloading their weapons. The four of them began to advance on it but the draugr seemed to be tired of the scuffle and began to retreat. Derek crouched down as he watched it do the impossible; the bulky and decaying form slipped _through_ the solid wall of the house. At that point the scent was gone. Not even a whiff of the foul stench lingered. It was just gone.

“We need to get out of here, now,” Stiles tugged on Derek’s jacket sleeve, impatiently. “The cops’ll be here any minute thanks to the crazy gunfire from those assholes and I for one do not want to get caught at yet another crime scene by my dad!”

Derek took one last look around before nodding. “Everyone out,” he ordered. “We’ll regroup at the house.”

He waited until everyone was gone before he, too, vanished. He wouldn’t have another Pack member go down due to his own shortcomings or oversights.

******

They all scattered to the winds after that. Scott retreated to Stiles’ house and they did manage to hang out long enough that assure Stiles’ dad that they weren’t out causing trouble when he swung by to check up on them. Scott was too restless to stick around and sleep so he took off for his own house earlier than he normally would have, somewhat to Stiles’ disappointment. Then again, it was always much easier to research the crap out of stuff when Scott wasn’t around being bored or demanding.

Not that that prevented other werewolves from being demanding and showing up still sweaty and bloody from the fight. Stiles merely shot Derek a look when he came over the edge of his window sill, turning back to his computer while still chewing absently on a pen.

“Okay, so I reread up on the draugr. Draugr means afterwalker- someone who has died but was so screwed up and evil that death couldn’t hold’em right? Which makes them strong as hell unfortunately,” He explained, peering at the grotesque picture accompanying the information on screen. It looked like some bizarro horse with no ears. “They also get as big and as heavy as they want and change forms. They always smell of death- hence why your supersniffers almost got knocked out there. They also can pass through solid earth as a mist- meaning dirt, stone, anything natural. They have trouble with metal but I wouldn’t count on that to stop since, y’know super strong and all.”

Derek ran a hand over his face; he’d asked for the encyclopedia to give him everything, but he was missing the important part. “How do we kill it?” It took what little patience he had to barely growl the question out when all he really wanted to do was slam Stiles against the wall to get him to focus.

“I was getting to that, pushy!” Stiles retorted with a scowl of his own, picking up the actual hardcover book he’d found that seemed to have legit information in it. “So... there’s not an easy way to do it. Basically you have to trick it back to its burial place, stab some iron into it, cut off its head and set it on fire. Oh and you might want to scatter its ashes just in case.”

“Is _that_ all?” They had barely been able to slow it down and now they had multiple hoops to jump through just to get it stopped for good. “As long as it’s nothing too difficult.” Sarcasm was definitely Derek’s friend at that moment. “We’ll need a plan. Is there any way to track it instead of waiting for it to show up again?”

Stiles made an odd little noise with his mouth, somewhere between popping it and heaving a gusty sigh. “Not that I can tell, not better than what we are doing already. Basically if something smells like death, you’re right on path.” He paused, seemingly debating something. He hated the idea but he couldn’t discuss it with Scott... he’d go apeshit. “So... I do have a theory about who it could be.”

Pushing away from the desk, he turned around to face Derek so he wasn’t looming over his back, just over his front. Or something. “Draugr tend to haunt their relatives, so I researched all the people that were attacked... ” He gestured to the open tabs on his computer detailing grisly murders that he’d cross-referenced with people he’d pinpointed as under Argent’s group. Good times at Casa de Stilinski and all that. “All but one of them was a hunter and the one that wasn’t turned out to be a werewolf. I think it’s Gerard Argent. I mean, who else do we know that is that evil and not wanting to die? Which means that he’ll probably continue to go after the hunters and Allison in particular... so if you wanted to track it... you could track her.”

Derek sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Good idea,” he said with as little enthusiasm as possible. “Because I need Scott throwing a hissy fit because I’m tailing his star-crossed betrothed. Even explaining it to him would just... you know, Stiles? That actually _is_ an excellent idea.”

He stood up once more and moved closer to Stiles, crowding all his personal space in some attempt to read the book in Stiles’ hand. “I’m the Alpha, and I’ll just send Scott to do it.” It really was a good plan; Scott would feel trusted, their bargain rules would be honored, and maybe - just maybe - the pack would strengthen further because of it.

Stiles grinned. Mostly so maybe Derek wouldn’t notice the sound of his heartbeat. “ _Now_ you’re thinking like a mastermind! Good boy!” Oh god, who let him talk? Why did they let him talk?

Derek slowly tilted his mouth towards Stiles’ ear and whispered, so patiently, “Shut up, Stiles.”

“....” It could have been worse. Derek could be actually tearing out his throat with his teeth. He still didn’t quite manage to be silent per se but all that came out was a sort of... noise. Not a whimper, okay? But... a noise.

“Good boy, indeed,” he grinned and moved towards the window. “I’ll be in touch... ” And yes, yes Derek did turn and look over his shoulder with that mischievous grin of his when _that_ little phrase came from his lips before he left into the night.

*****

John Stilinski hovered outside of his son’s door, listening to the low voices inside. They trailed off quickly and he wondered what would happen if he simply walked into his son’s room right now instead of knocking. And that just made it all the worse for him- he loved his son but he hated the fact Stiles had lied to him, for the better part of a year. He’d turned John into a parent he’d never wanted to be, suspicious and unkind.

His hand was already on the handle of the door, ready to push it open (or find out it was locked) but then he was knocking on it. Not surprisingly there was a little scuffle of movement but he only found Stiles sitting in front of his computer, raising his head at his entrance. His face... John used to know everything about his son, be able to read his face right off the bat to know if he had a good day or a bad one. Everything Stiles felt was written on his face once. But now Stiles was so careful with anything that really mattered.

John knew that part of watching your kid grow up was watching them grow away from you but... it was different. Hell, not every parent had to deal with the notion of their son’s best friend being a werewolf to start with. Taking a breath, he gave a terse smile. “Scott not around?”

“Nah. He headed back home early. Something with his mom or something,” He shrugged, scratching at a hole in the knee of his jeans. Had that been there before? John hadn’t paid very close attention to Stiles’ wardrobe and he wondered if he’d done more laundry if he’d run across blood or dirt from his son’s late night adventures. John’s mouth tightened up.

“Was this before or after you ended up across town at the crime scene that looks like a battle was fought out in front of the Argents’ yard?” He demanded, blue eyes piercing, pinning his son as easily as he pinned a suspect. He was actually interrogating his own son in his bedroom but he couldn’t stop.

“What? I told you, we had a quiet night with friends-”

_“Don’t lie to me Stiles!”_ John barked. That did him no favors. Stiles immediately locked his jaw and his face went to a blank, brick wall that made him look too much like Sonya when she’d wanted to throttle him. There’d been quite a few nights where she’d made him sleep on the couch after making that face. Shaking his head, John threw up his hands, trying to find a way to reach his son. "Do you know what it's like for me going to a crime scene these days? I'm scared out of my mind that one of these times it's going to be your body!"

"Yeah well, better mine than yours." It was a low, sullen mutter but John heard it as loud as a gunshot.

"Don't you say that! Don't you _ever_ say that! It is _not_ your responsibility-"

" _YES IT IS!_ " Stiles surged up out of his chair, knocking it over, ignoring it. His eyes were wild as he crossed over to John, surprising him with his desperation. Determination. "It is. It's the last thing I ever promised her."

All the air went out of the room and they stared anywhere but at each other.

Stiles broke first. "Besides... it's my fault. Okay, I know, it's actually Peter's fault since he was the one that bit Scott and killed Laura but... I was the one that was excited about a dead body in the woods.” He looked disgusted with himself almost. Ashamed that he could act like a stupid kid, his mouth a study in tense, unhappy lines. “I didn't _think_... I didn't think about the fact she was somebody's sister. Not once. I didn't think of her as a person... so yeah, I'm not going to stop. You can do whatever you want but... I can't. Whatever it takes, I'm going to be there with all of them.”

John watched his son go from nearly curling in on himself in self-loathing to his shoulders pulling back, standing up straight to stare him dead in the eye. Stiles wasn’t fidgeting or letting his mouth get away from him. Pride was warring with love in John’s head and he found himself going from stern to pleading. “It's not your responsibility... ”

“Yeah, yeah it is.” Stiles gave him a lopsided smile and his eyes were a lot older than they ever, ever should look. “You and mom taught me that... family isn't just blood. It's people and it's screwed up and messy and it hurts, it hurts a _lot_ but you don't ever abandon family.”

“Sure the one time you listen to me, you use it to do something dangerous... ” John felt old and tired. A lump was forming in his throat and that was ridiculous. This was his kid. His goofy, well-intentioned, bit-off-more-than-he-could-chew kid. He shouldn’t sound so... adult.

Stiles shifted, chewing his lip, eyes flicking restlessly over John’s face. “So... you're not going to stop me?”

He could tell that Stiles didn’t want him to. Stiles’ eyes darted over his face, anxious and it wasn’t right. He was struck by the unfairness of his son being out there. His human son who was still so fragile but he acted like he could take on monsters and win. Maybe he had. Maybe that was the only reason he was still here to argue with him. “I don't like it. I'll never like it and I'm not even going to pretend to understand all these... monsters,” John admitted honestly, hands wringing in front of him, looking old, ineffective and gnarled. Stiles was already looking like the life was being sucked from him, expression trying to harden itself. “But... I'll always have your back. You have to trust that.”

Stiles’ head jerked up so fast John actually winced. “Wha-?”

“You heard me kiddo.”

“But-”

“I’m not saying that this is a freebie for running amok-”

“Did you seriously use the word ‘amok’? Heee!” Stiles exploded in movement, throwing himself at John, hugging him tight then bouncing back around the room, like he couldn’t contain himself. “I don’t care, I don’t even care that you use old man words to describe the thrilling heroics that I engage in- although I have way more in common with Dr. Horrible than the Firefly crew, even if Simon was totally my favorite for calling people on their shitty life choices and Captain Tightpants was pretty awesome and you have no idea what I’m talking about but that’s okay but you’re my dad and you’re not disowning me!” He laughed again, diving in for another hug and John just hugged him back, tightly.

John couldn’t really pretend that there’d been two choices between keeping Stiles and losing him. There’d only ever really been one.


	9. In Which the Alpha Pack Introduces Themselves

Following Allison around gave Scott a little peace of mind but not that much. He knew that Allison didn’t want him to patronize her but he wasn’t sure what else he could do. He did have the ability to protect her and the instinct to do it was... overwhelming. He loved her and wanted to keep her safe so why was that such a bad thing?

Scott froze, the scent on the air unfamiliar only in who, not what, it belonged to. He glanced around the open streets of the neighborhood and found himself looking at a pretty brunette maybe a few years older than he was only a few hundred yards away. She gave a slight twitch of her lips and dipped her head though her eyes remained fixed on his face. He felt his hackles rise as he zeroed in on her, finding him reacting to the scent of another werewolf.

Leaving his guard duty from watching the Argent house, Scott dropped down from the roof to land in the grass on the far side of the house. The hunters might not be out patrolling per se but they were going to notice him more quickly than a random neighbor so he took care not to make sure there weren’t any peering in his direction. He crossed the street and moved right up to the female Alpha, hands held loosely but ready at his sides. “You’re one of the Alpha pack,” He declared, right off the bat.

She smiled, pretty blue eyes watching his face for a long moment. “My name’s Vanessa, Vanessa Savakis. I’m not here to pick a fight with you.”

He shifted a little on his feet but there was nothing disingenuous about her. Relaxing a little more, he gave her a nod of his head, dipping it forward enough to be respectful to her rank without turning belly up. “My name’s Scott. I’m not really the one you should be talking to. Derek’s the Alpha.”

“I know about Derek but I’d rather talk to you. We’ve been watching you, all your pack,” She told him, giving a little gesture of her chin that they should walk and talk. She was smaller than he expected an Alpha to be- even if Derek wasn’t as tall as even Boyd, he and Peter both had a presence physically that made you aware of them. “I’m not what you expected when you heard about an Alpha pack, am I?”

“No, not really. You’re a lot prettier,” Scott agreed, flushing a little as she laughed. “I mean, uh-”

“Thank you, that’s sweet of you to say. And I appreciate you not attacking first.”

“I didn’t attack that beta, he attacked me!” He glared at her and was glad she looked somewhat abashed at that. “I thought you guys were supposed to figure out if we’re a threat before you start throwing people around.”

“Technically? Yes. However everyone knows that if you’re doing enough wrong to have someone formally call for an Alpha pack, it’s unlikely that you’ll convince them otherwise when they get to you. Talbot’s beta did go beyond what he was supposed to but Ian was upset at the loss of his packmate,” She explained, leaning on the tree to her right, the wind tugging at the wavy strands of her dark hair.

“We didn’t have anything to do with that! That was that monster that attacked the hunters yesterday!” Scott pointed out, taking a breath and fixing big brown eyes on Vanessa, expression pleading. “Look, we need more time. We don’t know who it was or what it wants. It’s hard to even track. We need time to protect our territory.”

“How do we know you didn’t orchestrate this to buy yourselves more time to deal with us?” Vanessa countered, raising her brows.

“Because we’re not that smart?”

She laughed, startled, covering her mouth. “Oh Scott, you... you’re really something.”

“Thanks... I think,” He gave her a rueful smile of his own, feeling his heart skip a little. “Um, so, are you sure there’s no way we can get out of a big showdown? We’ve had a lot of stuff happen yeah, dangerous stuff, but we’ve dealt with most of it completely. No one’s turning into werelizards anymore.”

She sighed, reaching up to touch at his curls, letting her fingers linger. “I wish it was that simple. I like you Scott and I believe that you were doing the best you knew how but that’s the point- you didn’t know what you were doing. Derek Hale should not have been turning you or any of the betas he did.”

“I kinda agree but-”

“See? You lack faith in your Alpha. That’s never a good thing. That’s a death knell in a pack,” She butted in, leaning in closer, earnest and upfront in a way he appreciated. “You could join my pack, Scott. We’re stable and open. We don’t have secrets or lies. And we’re not in a blood feud with a hunter family.”

“I didn’t say that! Wait... what do you mean a blood feud?” Scott stepped back, brows knitting in concern. Had Derek not told him something again? After he agreed to be part of his pack? Bitter frustration made his fingers clench into fists.

Vanessa gave him a look that clearly said ‘you poor thing’. “Have you ever heard of the legend of the Beast of Gévaudan?”

“Actually yeah, the Argents are descended from the hunter who killed the werewolf.” He wasn’t sure what else there was to tell about it. The Beast had supposedly killed scores of people in France way, way back in the day. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it- what was the werewolf doing killing all those people?

“And who do you think is descended from the ‘Beast’, Scott?” Vanessa gave him a sad smile when he connected the dots. “Exactly. If you stay with the Hale pack, you will never, ever be not hunted by the Argents. It’s... unavoidable.”

“No! That’s not true! Allison’s not like that,” Scott snapped, sounding more panicked than angry, glancing back tellingly at the Argent house that they’d walked away from. “She’s not-”

“She was born into the family Scott. Blood calls to blood. We have a saying that applies to us as much as them- if you live amongst wolves you must act like a wolf. The same as hunters. Sooner or later, she will be what she’s always meant to be.”

“NO!” He wanted to howl out the anger and the desperation inside of him. Why was everyone trying to ruin the one bright spot in his life? He had been happy, wonderfully, amazingly happy when he was with Allison and everywhere he turned, people were telling him that was over. Even Allison herself.

Vanessa let him be for several long moments and he found himself surprisingly comforted by her quiet presence. The wolf in him recognized hers, but it was more than that. She was a little like Allison- kind but firm when she needed to be. Deadly but open with her feelings. It was confusing and he felt like he was betraying Allison by even realizing how attractive Vanessa was.

“I think what would benefit all of us is if we sit down and have a meeting. Tell Derek that Lycaon is willing to hear any pleas or defense he wishes to make to the Pack tomorrow afternoon before sundown. We’ll be at the cabin near the reservoir,” She said at length, turning to look at Scott. Her face softened again. “I hope you make the best choice for _you_ , Scott. I’d hate to see you hurt or worse. I meant my offer; you would be very welcomed in my pack... and by me.”

He swallowed as she leaned in, gracing him with a soft kiss to his cheek. She smelled of earth, wolf and ripe berries, tantalizingly to his wolf and to his human weaknesses. “Yeah, sure, thanks. I’ll pass along the info.”

Scott watched her walk off without a backward glance, a little surprised when a young man joined her when she was several feet away, stepping out of the sideyard of one of the nearby houses. Vanessa stopped to smile up at him and Scott could easily see the resemblance- they were siblings but his expression was quite a bit less open and more scowly than Vanessa. Maybe he wouldn’t be as welcomed as she thought if her own brother or whatever was already giving him dirty looks.

He was so confused.

Scott’s ears pricked at the sound of a beat up truck slowing down in front of the Argent house and he ducked back behind the side of the house again. It pulled to a complete stop and two women, both in their forties probably, stepped out. Something about the way they held themselves, the way their eyes flicked over the neighborhood as if looking for trouble made him think that these were more hunters. Scott poked his head out the taller woman was being greeted by Allison.

“Hi I’m Allison Argent... you must be Mickie?”

“That’s right. This is Verity Taneva, everyone calls her Taneva.” Mickie was really tall actually, close to Peter’s height if he made a guess and very fit in her work boots and jeans. She had dark hair pulled back into a ponytail so he could see her face, scrubbed free of any makeup. She wasn’t a pretty woman. His mom would say she was handsome, though Scott really didn’t know how that worked because who called women handsome without it being a backhanded compliment? But if he was going to call a woman handsome, it would probably be Mickie.

The other woman, Taneva, seemed less dangerous somehow at first glance. She wasn’t scrawny or delicate looking or anything. She was built like Allison, slim but not frail, her skin was a warm goldeny brown though and her dark hair was cropped close to her skull. She wore a too big jacket, like it belonged to a man at some point.

“Ran into some trouble on the way into town,” Mickie was saying as she moved towards Allison’s house where a few more hunters stepped outside. Scott vaguely recognized a few of them and the youngest one he figured was Ev, he-of-the-douche-gene according to Stiles. “Had a very large thing slam into my truck and drove us off the road. It would’ve stuck around more if Taneva hadn’t hosed it down with wolfsbane. Think one of your werewolves here ain’t fond of outsiders.”

“I guess, but that doesn’t really sound like-”

Scott didn’t get a chance to hear what else Allison was going to say when an arm wrapped around his throat and a gun was pressed to his temple. He could actually hear the mechanisms inside the gun work as the safety was flicked off. With a flick of his eyes, Scott realized it was the other hunter, Taneva.

“Uh... hi?” He offered, giving a weak smile. He could smell the wolfsbane in the bullets, making his nose twitch alarmingly.

She didn’t say a word, merely dragged him towards Mickie and Allison. At least Allison relaxed, even if she crossed her arms over her body in a very unenthusiastic way.

“Hi Allison! Was just... in the neighborhood for a quick um... run and uh-”

“Scott,” Allison leveled him with a look.

He deflated and flicked his gaze at Mickie. Her expression was remote, he couldn’t tell if she was angry or anything. It kind of freaked him out. “Friend of yours?”

“Yes. An old family friend. Why are you here?” Scott shifted his feet and Allison gave a signal to Taneva, encouraging the woman to let him go. She paused a moment but then did so, slipping around to stand still at his back but not actively trying to hold him down.

“I um... I wanted to-” He paused and shook his head. “Can’t we go inside and talk? This’ll take some time I think. Stiles knows what the monster is.”

“Werewolf or not, it sounds like we might want to hear’im out, if you are serious about getting rid of this thing,” Mickie pointed out.

Scott smiled hopefully but the younger hunter from before came up to them, frowning as he glanced at Scott. “Ally I don’t think you should. I know you have a history but we don’t have any information that even points to what that thing _might_ be. We can’t trust that it’s not one of them or something they’re responsible for.”

“We do know what it is and we’re trying to help to get rid of it. Isn’t that enough? I didn’t have to come here to tell you,” Scott offered up, feeling a little better when hunter seemed surprised by that honest answer.

Allison pursed her lips together but nodded. “Thanks Ev but I think sharing information is more important than playing it safe right now. Let’s all go inside.”

Ev pursed his lips together but didn’t protest as Scott followed the three women inside. Instead of following them as well, he called out, “Actually I’ve got to relieve Cavalero from his watch. I’ll see you later.”

Scott paused, tilting his head, glancing towards Ev’s retreating form. Why did that register as a lie? Was he lying because Scott was there and didn’t want him to know what was going on or was he lying to Allison? And which was more troubling?

******

“I told you! I told you, you can’t trust that one! His own _pack_ can’t trust him, he’s going right in the hunter’s den,” Dom insisted, a snarl shading his words as he glared at Scott from a safe distance away, far removed from the hunters’ sights.

“Lycaon just got the pics, he says he recognizes the taller woman,” Vanessa muttered, ignoring the outburst, tapping out a quick reply on her phone, saving the pictures for later.

“Micheala Taylor, hunter she-bitch, been around for fifteen, almost twenty years now,” A rough, sneering voice declared from over their shoulders. The twins immediately dropped into an instinctive shoulder to shoulder defensive stance as Talbot lumbered towards them, mouth twisted into a mean grin. “So ya do have some sort of instinct. Wasn’t sure with how you sneaking around like a pair of weasels, doing Lycaon’s dirty work. Thought you were an Alpha now Vanessa.”

“I am,” she gritted out, eyes flashing red in a visible reminder. Talbot let out a mocking and cruel laugh, grating on the ear. He stalked closer, circling the pair and sniffing the air casually, the motion pulling at the ugly scar on the left side of his face.

“Right. How big’s your pack again? Four? Five now? Hell, even Hale’s pack’s bigger than that. Maybe that’s why you’re trying to sweet talk’em.” He leaned in close to Vanessa, breath rank with the smell of meat and blood. She took a step back and cursed herself when that made him chuckle again.

“Shut up Talbot, Lycaon ordered us not-” Dom’s insolence was met with a heavy smack across his face dropping him to the ground with the force of it. Vanessa let out a roar, standing over her twin’s body, tiny in the face of the older Alpha’s bulk but determined.

Talbot’s lips curled up, leaning his head down into her space again, red eyes excited at the possibility of violence. His face was already starting to shift, brows growing heavy as drool dripped from his fangs. “You wanna fight me, whelp? For this little shit? You know you can’t win against me. I’d tear you in two and enjoy it,” he sneered.

“Not when Lycaon comes for you after that,” she pointed out, quietly but confident, not even bothering to respond with her own claws or fangs. Her lips twisted into something like a smirk when Talbot’s own smile faded at the reminder of the other Alpha. His eyes narrowed, flicking down to Dom lying still in the grass. “Keep your betas under control then.”

Vanessa gave a terse nod and bent to help Dom to stand, not making a noise when he smacked her hand away to stand on his own. He flicked a defiant glare to the older male but said nothing as his sister urged him away.

Talbot watched them go, wanting to chase them down, to hunt them and tear the twins apart with his teeth. He wanted blood and death, not this waiting game. This was not the way a strong Alpha acted. This was how an old beast pretended that he was still in control, sending in pups to do his dirty work.

“You still need them to cooperate, Talbot,” Olivia pointed out quietly as she emerged from downwind of the Alphas.

She was a cautious female; Talbot had heard of witches and the like that could mask themselves from the senses. Not that it mattered- he could snap her like a twig if he chose to and it was very tempting at the moment. He snarled at her, flexing his clawed fingers, seemingly unable to shift back and calm himself from his agitated state. “Like hell I do! I’m tired of waiting, I want Hale’s head! I want all their heads to crack under my teeth,” he snarled.

“Lycaon won’t allow you to do that and he _is_ powerful enough to stop you,” She reminded him patiently, tilting her head up. “You made the challenge about Hale’s pack but it’s in his hands as the oldest Alpha in the West Coast. And he’s just as likely to reward the territory to his daughter as you once Hale has been dispatched.”

He curled up a lip at the very idea of the female being given the pack and the land without any work of her own. Spoiled little brat- she’d never had to claw her way up like Talbot had. His pack was built out of his own blood and brute force. That was the real sign of an Alpha- one that could meet any and all comers. It seemed like Morell was going to keep talking- nothing that Talbot was interested in hearing- when he scented the hunter brat moments before he jogged up to them. Talbot’s lips curled back into a feral grin as the human’s heartbeat tripled.

Morell was far more welcoming to him which was hardly more than a perfunctory smile. “Everett. I hope you have an explanation of how you managed to lose Vernon Boyd.”

“Fuck that, what can he do for us _now_?” Talbot injected and Ev scowled, hand trembling but firm on his holster.

“I didn’t do that for you. I did that because he needs to be put down before he can hurt anyone in Beacon Hills, like the rest of his pack,” Ev retorted. He focused his attention on Morell who was damnably blank faced. “Allison called in some hunters. She wasn’t able to get a hold of any of them but Taylor and Taneva.”

Olivia’s brows shot up. “Really.” She had replaced all the numbers in Argent’s emergency contacts to go to answering services but apparently she missed Taylor’s. “She didn’t call in your father then?”

“No. I asked her not to. We don’t need him here,” Ev insisted, straightening up his body language, throwing his shoulders back. Olivia pressed her lips together, seeming to be displeased with his assurances. “I mean it. We’ve got enough men here and Taylor seems to know what she’s doing and Taneva... well, she noticed Scott well before any of the other hunters did.”

“That ain’t a surprise, her bro was one of the best trackers you lot ever had,” Talbot admitted and then grinned. “Least ‘ways before he got killed cuz of his boytoy. Think Taneva’ll pay him a visit since they’re both in town, eh?” He gave a grating laugh that Olivia ignored.

“Is that everything you have to tell us? You don’t have anything else useful?” She prompted, giving Ev a chance to redeem himself.

Ev opened his mouth but it dawned on him then that Talbot was shifting, mouth and nose turning into the elongated snout of a wolf filled with razor sharp teeth. He’d made a mistake- a horribly deadly one. Pulling out his gun, he fired off several rounds into the Alpha but it wasn’t enough.

Olivia sidestepped to avoid the spray of blood as Talbot took out his pent up aggression on the young man. She was mildly frustrated by the hitch in her plans but even this would give her yet another opportunity- once Everett’s body was brought to the Argent girl, Allison would have to contact Frank James about his son’s death. And then the conflict would even out as she had intended in the first place. Either the Alpha pack or the hunters would take care of Hale and his pack, leaving Beacon Hills to become the sleepy little town it was meant to be.

If that required blood to be shed to accomplish that, so be it.

*****

“- and that’s why I was here. Not just to check up on you, I promise, but also to see if we couldn’t work with you to catch the draugr,” Scott finished up his pared down information Stiles had passed along about what they were up against. He didn’t mention that it was likely Gerard Argent who was the monster because he didn’t want to make Allison feel any worse about her family than she already did.

“I’ll have to talk to my men but I think you’re right. This... draugr?... is more dangerous than either of our groups can handle on our own. I don’t want innocent people getting hurt because we’re fighting each other,” Allison gave him a tentative smile and Scott’s heart skipped. It wasn’t much, nothing to build hope on really but it felt good to be the cause of any of Allison’s smiles anymore.

“Great! I want-”

“Allison!” Cavalero burst into the house, making the four of them startle. Mickie took one look at the man’s face and was already shoving past him outside, drawing her gun. He ignored her to head to Argent’s girl instead. “I... I’m sorry Allison. Bob radioed to ask if Ev had met up with us yet and I didn’t know anything about it. So we went looking for him... I’m sorry.”

Allison was starting to hate those two words and she shook her head, trying to deny the dread creeping up on her. “What? Where is he? What happened? Is he alright?”

“Allison-”

She stormed outside, pushing beyond the bodies circled on the front stoop. “Who is that?”

There was a mangled body there with dark hair. A young man. “Who is that?!” she repeated, voice fogged up, still desperately trying to deny what she could so plainly see.

“Allison,” Scott’s voice was tentative in her ear and he reached for her shoulder only to have his hand twisted around and his chest slammed into the wall.

“Look at him Scott! See those marks? Those are claw marks! He was murdered by a werewolf while I was busy talking to _you_! My cousin, my _family_ was being killed again!” She accused, too distraught to realize that Scott was letting her pin him. Granted, Scott could already tell that if he made any sudden moves any of the half dozen hunters would riddle him full of wolfsbane in about two seconds flat.

“I had nothing to do with this. I swear it.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just get out,” She shoved away from him, taking a heavy, wrecking breath. “We need to get th- that taken care of before the neighbors see anything. You know what to do.”

Scott hesitated, not wanting to leave her when the brunette was so obviously in pain. But when he stepped towards her, Mickie got in his way. The hunters were moving to grab supplies to take care of the bloodstains and to haul Ev’s lifeless body away wrapped in plastic to be buried in the Preserve most likely.

“Ain’t gonna help kid. Not now,” she shook her head, gesturing with her chin. “Go.”

*******

“Thank you for your time, Mr. and Mrs. Mahealani,” John Stilinski sighed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes, his badge a heavier and heavier weight on his chest. He stepped off the stoop onto the walkway that led up to the Mahealani house, turning slightly to look at the couple. “I didn’t think it would be this easy to find Jackson but I had to try.”

“Please, call me Hiapo we’ve known each other long enough for that, Sheriff. And we are worried about him too. I told his parents that they really needed to focus more on him, after that scare during the lacrosse game last month but they just wouldn’t listen, not that it surprises me given how they usually handle Jackson-”

“Hiapo,” Mr. Mahealani interjected quietly, bending slightly to kiss his wife’s brow, continuing on when she subsided. John twinged slightly at the familiar gesture that he’d done himself a long, long time ago. “The important thing is that the Whittemores know that Jackson is actually missing and not just camped out with Danny or Lydia. Have you been to the Martin residence yet?” He asked politely, brows raised behind his glasses in mild concern.

The sheriff shook his head, breathing in a deep sigh. “No. That was my next stop- Danny! I’m glad I didn’t miss you,” he gestured to the young man heading up the driveway. He flicked his dark eyes worriedly between his parents and John.

“Sheriff?”

“It’s Jackson, son. His parents put out a missing person’s bulletin on him,” He explained. “When was the last time you spoke with him, do you remember? How was he?”

“Three days ago. We had a fight,” Danny admitted with a sigh that told John he felt somewhat responsible for the other boy’s absence. “He’s been weird lately. I don’t know if he’s... okay.”

John’s brows furrowed. Much as he didn’t like Jackson’s attitude, if the boy wasn’t actually recovered, it just made this that much worse. He needed to find him before he got himself hurt- and considering what he now knew about what happened in Beacon Hills, that could be even worse than he first thought. “We’re all looking for him, I promise. We’re not going to let this lie. Is there anywhere else that you can think of that Jackson would go?”

Danny shook his head mutely. “He didn’t take the Porsche,” he offered up.

The Sheriff jotted down a few notes, frustrated but trying to keep it off his face. “Thanks, anyways. I need to get back out there.”

Leaving the Mahealani house, John returned to his patrol car. He paused before getting inside, heaving a sigh and fisting a hand. He had no leads. No clue where the Whittemore boy could’ve gone and he had Whittemore senior breathing down his neck, making insinuations about getting his badge removed permanently if he did not produce his son in twenty four hours.

John had refrained from pointing out that they hadn’t even known that Jackson was missing for two full days, although he wasn’t sure if that was common sense or knowing there was no point. The Whittemores were loving parents in their own way but loving and being effective were two different things.

“Like you’re an expert on that one, John,” he muttered at himself. “Where the hell are you Jackson.”

“Don’t worry about Jackson.” Leave it to Derek to appear out of nowhere and do nothing to actually settle the nerves he was trying to calm. “I’ve got it handled.”

Once John’s heart got out of his throat at Derek’s sudden appearance, he was abruptly angry. He hauled the young man closer by his lapels, slamming him against the side of the patrol car, unaware that the werewolf was allowing him to even budge him. “You don’t get to tell me _‘not to worry’_ about a seventeen year old kid that’s missing! Hell, I could lock you up on suspicion of being involved right now after that business with Lahey and Boyd! You’re lucky no one pressed charges!”

“Because this would be anything out of the ordinary around Beacon Hills,” he said as flatly as he could, “Pinning blame on me, that is. Luck or not, I’m actually shocked no one’s come crying wolf to the police’s front door.”

John’s lips thinned out and he tightened his grip briefly in the younger man’s jacket. “I’m not stupid or blind, Derek. I know that a lot more is going on in my town than anyone wants. I know what happened during the fire, or enough of it. You think I don’t notice those black SUVs full of men, ‘hunters’, showing up off season and all of them, every single one of ‘em, ending up interacting with Argent? Who was hurt while taking a ‘hike’ in the middle of the night.”

As per usual, Derek wasn’t going to divulge any information to someone who was still barely in the safety zone of _not enough information to be important_. “So you have a bunch of rich yuppies who like to hunt whatever they want because they have the money to back up their superiority complex and you’re hinting around for more information to me?” He had to laugh, just a little. “If you didn’t remember, Sheriff... I live in a burnt down shell of a house and don’t know anything about a party of rich hunters.”

John’s jaw tightened and he stared down Derek, looking eerily like his son when he did so. That stubborn determination was definitely a family trait. “Alright. I withdraw the insinuation. But you don’t mind if I speculate do you? I didn’t think so,” he went on, without letting Derek respond. “Let’s suppose for a moment that the influx of these... what did you call them? Rich party hunters? Let’s assume that they’ve heard about these animal attacks. Big animals.” He made a gesture with his hands, indicating the basic size of the supposed animal’s head. 

“Strong enough to take down fully grown men. Ones that have attacked many people in and around town. Let’s suppose that they get it in their head that it’s their... civic duty to get rid of anything that even remotely is connected to these animals. Now, do I stop them from breaking the law, knowing that it might put more people at risk than before? Do I let them use possibly unregistered weapons around civilians, hoping that they do some good? I have only my instincts and facts to guide me here but I think you might have some insight yourself, Mr. Hale. What do you think?” His tone was light but bitingly sarcastic.

Derek’s jaw almost stiffened but he forced it to relax along with his shoulders. “I think I have nothing for you in the way of insight,” he shrugged. “I don’t hang with the rich crowd and I definitely steer clear of rich people with a fetish for unregistered weapons. If that changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

He offered up a mock salute and began to turn away from John. The last thing he needed was to be a person of interest _again_ in the eyes of the Sheriff. The last few times that happened, it complicated everything and things were complicated enough without that.

“Derek. One last thing,” John turned slightly to take in the younger man’s face. It was tired and drawn and that did no favors for the Sheriff. If the supposed ‘de facto werewolf boss’ (Stiles’ words) was run this ragged, that did not bode well for anyone in his pack. Or who ran after his pack.

“I don’t know what all goes on with this... supernatural business and frankly I don’t _want_ to know. I’m not even sure I can believe it and Scott...” He paused and shook his head before pressing on. “I put diapers on that kid practically.”

He sighed and squared his shoulders, not unlike Stiles himself did before he set off to do something he really didn’t want to do. “But what I want and what I need to know, they’re not always the same thing, I learned that a long time ago. If there’s something going on that threatens my town, I will be made aware of it. I understand that when it comes to these sorts of things you’re more experienced than I am but that doesn’t negate my job.” John paused and took a breath. “Lastly, Stiles isn’t going to be hurt. Not on your watch. If he is...”

John didn’t even have to continue the threat, simply staring Derek directly in the eyes. With a wordless nod of his head, the Sheriff slipped into his car and drove off.

Derek waited until the headlights were shrinking fast in the distance before he took a deep breath and looked up towards the sky. John wasn’t the only person who was slowly losing that safety that only obliviousness could bring but he was the one he knew he had to keep in the dark for more reasons than he could count. Jackson was becoming a problem, more so than he ever had been, but what else was new when it came to Jackson? Either way he looked at it, Derek didn’t have time for it. So many things needed to be handled and things were unraveling faster than he could stop.

“Interesting tactic you choose there with the Sheriff. I can see how stony silence really made him understand that there isn’t a damned thing he can do,” Peter pointed out, slipping out of the shadows to step up to his nephew, hands clasped behind his back. When that didn’t get the response he was looking for, he went on. “You know... I was an Alpha, briefly, so consider this a friendly... critique if you would.”

“Considering the hell you put him and everyone else in this town through when you _were_ the Alpha, I don’t really want or need your advice,” he said, still trying to pretend if he ignored eye contact long enough that Peter would go away. “Do you have something useful to offer besides the usual flippant fortune cookie messages you like to hand out?”

He smirked, arching his brows. “I was simply going to mention that in all this trouble, all these people you hadn’t wanted to find out about us, you’ve never once used all of what’s available to you. I find that curious. You could’ve simply willed the esteemed Sheriff into leaving it all alone. But you didn’t,” Peter circled to face Derek head on and for a moment, the concern seemed almost genuine on his face. “That’s foolhardy. We’re not human Derek, we don’t have to _play fair_ as it were.”

Given the amount of time he’d spent with Stiles, for all his annoying stubborn tactics, Derek knew Stiles got it from someone in his family. “It doesn’t pay to butt heads with the Stilinski clan,” he said in lieu of a clear answer.

Peter’s lips twitched, blue eyes cold, calculating. However pleasant and unobtrusive as he had been as of late, there was no doubt that Peter was still dangerous. Still prodding and poking at sore spots to see what weakness would show itself. “Perhaps you’ve simply have no taste for what is required of an Alpha. What unsavoriness comes with it... but that’s hardly surprising as you were never even supposed to be an Alpha.” It wasn’t even an insult really- Peter was stating a fact. “Perhaps that’s it, it’s not a question of willingness, you simply are lacking in more areas than the obvious.”

Peter shook his head but met Derek’s gaze head on. “Remember that the Alpha pack doesn’t care how squeamish your betas are. This is war, Derek. You know it, I know it. Don’t let your belly show or it may get torn out by very sharp teeth,” his grin was wide and too full of teeth.

Twisting away, Peter walked back towards woods, in the direction of the old house. Derek wasn’t the only ghost haunting that place after all.


	10. In Which Danny is Caught Up to Speed (But It Doesn't Help Him Much)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, didn't upload this before I went to bed last night!

Beacon Hills had been a town since before the Hales had settle there and claimed their territory but not by much. They had been driven not only by the Argents (and other hunters) but by the relentless growth of man. From the wild regions of France across Europe, trying to escape silver knives and wolfsbane and people crying for blood, their blood.

Beacon Hills had felt almost like a last bastion against the rocky shores of the ocean and the Hales staked their claim in the early 1800’s. They were integral to shaping the town and supporting it through its earliest years, coaxing it into a community. They had built churches and schools, helped fund many of the city projects, all while making sure the forest did not suffer too much from the expansion of man. For while they were wolf they were always men too, and both sides required home and safety. Safety was found in the people they intermingled with, loved and had children with.

The miles of forest surrounding Beacon Hills were really what they called home. What their descendants called home and even what one bitten wolf, scared and lost and suffering was drawn to when he could think of nowhere else to go. Derek wasn’t surprised to find Jackson wandering through the woods, barefoot and barely dressed, his boxers torn and muddy. What he couldn’t understand was why Jackson was always running.

Jackson slipped through the trees ahead of Derek, surprisingly fast on his feet. He twisted and leaped over fallen logs and gnarled roots, rocks, anything that was in his path. It wasn’t clear what he was running from until he skidded to a stop, hackles raised. The snarl in his throat was a warning but Derek realized, quickly, that it wasn’t directed at him.

The woods surrounding them had gone quiet. Derek had assumed that it was due to his and Jackson’s presence as the biggest predators but he cursed himself for not considering other reasons- like an even bigger and more dangerous predator.

“Well, at least that rumor isn’t true; you’re not completely incompetent,” A voice called out from the depths of the woods, seemingly from all directions. It was deep and male, a little scratchy from age or possibly abuse. “Your beta is alone in the woods? How odd. It leaves him at a disadvantage, vulnerable to other predators.”

“Jackson, you need to listen to me, right now.” Derek’s eyes bled red as his bones shifted, the change smooth and familiar.

The idiot, of course, did nothing of the sort. He tried to bolt away but nearly ran into a huge wolf, dark brown with an all but fully gray muzzle. It was clearly not an animal, beyond its size, but also in the way it was hemming Jackson in, preventing the younger man from getting away. Derek snarled a warning, leaping in front of his beta to head off any attacks.

“Jackson!” His tone was more exasperated than ever but it had more to do with worry than anything else. Not that he could focus on that as the Alpha lunged, snapping at his heels.

 _‘Why don't you shift Alpha Hale?’_ It was like a punch in the gut. Derek hadn’t felt that type of communication, that connection since before Laura died. He hated the Alpha for it, for forcing his thoughts over his own, demanding an answer. So Derek gave him one- roaring loud and challenging, shoving Jackson into a run.

With that taken care of Derek vaulted over the back of the older Alpha, twisting to push off the trunk of a nearby tree. His claws slashed at his flank, barely grazing it. The Alpha twisted and snapped his teeth at Derek, grazing his calf and shredding his jeans. Derek merely shifted his weight back, trying to judge how fast the Alpha actually was.

He was bigger than Laura had been, though his form was closer to what Derek had remembered growing up with his mother. Peter’s Alpha form had been so strange, so wrong, twisted by grief and anger. He didn’t have long to contemplate that as the Alpha lunged for him, maw gaping wide. Derek knew he wasn’t strong enough to take on the older Alpha but he was definitely quicker and had more stamina.

Leaping over his back, Derek raked his claws down the length of him, startling out a wounded noise. He didn’t let himself revel in the small victory or the scent of blood in the air, Derek simply bolted in the opposite direction of Jackson.

The Preserve was vast and Derek knew it quite well but he did not know if the Alpha was going to herd him into a trap. He didn’t want to make the mistake of underestimating him, especially when he was nipping so closely at his heels. He had to be careful and it wore on his nerves, leaping over rocky outcroppings and kicking up leaves.

All of his speed and dexterity mattered for shit when the Alpha slammed into his body full force. He felt his ribs snap and burn as he tumbled over onto his stomach. He immediately pushed himself up but the nausea and pain slammed into him hard and Derek’s arm gave out under him, sending him crashing into the dirt.

Then there was something like amusement trickling through his mind. _‘I see. It’s not that you won’t... You can't.’_

Derek was knocked over onto his back, the Alpha’s drool staining his shirt as he exhaled far too close to Derek’s neck. But he didn’t tilt his head back or show submission- he couldn’t risk it. His pack needed him alive. He couldn’t fail his pack, not this time, not now. He had to find a way out of this.

The Alpha cocked his massive head, red eyes still piercing in spite of the daylight. _‘You're afraid of becoming the beast.’_

Derek snorted. “I’m a werewolf.” Blisteringly dry but to the point. His ribs were knitting back into place and it was uncomfortable as hell but he didn’t need them fully healed to get up again. Just a few more moments. That was all he needed.

 _‘I could force you.’_ The idea sent a cold chill down Derek’s spine. _‘You do not have the control to become a full Alpha. Your anchor... it is not enough to stop me is it?’_

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it. Just so I don’t have to hear you monologuing in my head.” Derek gritted his teeth, defiant. He might be able to hold off the Alpha, buy Jackson more time to get away. He wasn’t sure he could count on the younger male to go to the Pack with the information but he knew that they would understand something was wrong if Derek disappeared. At the very least Stiles would. The thought made his chest tighten up again.

Taking a deep breath, Derek lifted his head to stare his death in the eye- only to find that the Alpha was already gone. There was only a last brush against his mind-

_‘You have not yet proven yourself Alpha Hale. Not in the slightest.’_

*******************

When Lydia showed up at Danny’s house demanding that he come with her to look for Jackson, this was not exactly what he had in mind. He wasn’t sure what he expected- especially given the state of their relationship (was it on again? Did they even know?)- but wandering around the Preserve while Lydia muttered darkly to herself under her breath was not it. She kept up a scathing commentary on Jackson, his decision making abilities, Scott McCall (?), Stiles (?- which, granted their bad decisions tended to go hand in hand), but that wasn’t so surprising given the incident with the restraining order. Come to think of it, was that still in effect?

No, what was surprising was Lydia muttering about Boyd (??) and Derek Hale. The ex-murder suspect. That was enough.

“Lydia, Lydia stop,” Danny held up his hands, looking around at the mass of trees. “What is going on? Why are we even out here? I came with you because we’re probably the people that know Jackson best, but even I don’t know why you’d think he’d be out here.”

She snorted. “Of course you don’t.”

He arched his brows. Lydia could play that attitude with other boys but it didn’t work on him. “Why do you say that.”

“Because they don’t tell you anything,” there was a furious waver in her voice that had Danny frowning again, stepping closer. “They never say anything, not until it’s too late and none of them have bothered looking for Jackson even after I _told them_ he was sleepwalking or running and they know that if he was not in control of himself, it could be bad, so bad, but do they do anything-?!”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Danny reached out and stroked his hands awkwardly over Lydia’s biceps. He felt completely out of his depth, not just with her aimless frustration but he had no idea what she was talking about. “Start at the beginning. Tell me what’s going on. Something weird is, I know that.”

She shot him a look that was speculative, making Danny almost want to push. “Do you really want to know? It would probably be less freaky for you if you don’t.” Danny fixed her with a look and Lydia slumped against a rock and toyed with the end of her hair.

Danny let her gather her thoughts, wondering exactly he was going to be told. And, bitterly, wondering if it was going to be the truth. All he could think of was Jackson telling him to stay far away from him at the last lacrosse game of the season. Shaking that thought out of his head, he faced Lydia’s pensive expression and then sat next to her on the rock. “Do you remember those animal attacks that happened at the beginning of sophomore year? When Allison moved here and Scott tried out for first line?”

“Yes... ”

Lydia proceeded to give Danny a disjointed account of all the weird, one off stuff that had happened the last couple years, occasionally backtracking when she remembered something and filling in her own pointed criticisms of course. He wanted to be skeptical, to call out Lydia for the sheer ridiculousness- but Lydia wasn’t prone to this sort of thing. Stiles, definitely, but Lydia had a very strict no nonsense personality.

“Werewolves? Killing people?” Danny asked, rubbing his hands over his arms, more worried than ever about Jackson out there alone with... those people. “Is this real? I feel like someone slipped something into my drink.”

And frankly hearing about what had happened to Jackson explained so much about why he felt like they were drifting apart. He’d thought Jackson was just being Jackson, freaking out over being co-captain so close to graduation and his break-up with Lydia. But it was so much worse than that. Whereas Lydia thought Jackson was idiot of the highest order for getting himself bit by a werewolf on _purpose_ , Danny knew Jackson better. He understood that Jackson was trying to fix some deficiency in himself that he’d always thought he had somehow.

It wasn’t enough that most people thought Jackson was gorgeous- he had to be everyone’s type. It wasn’t enough that he was co-captain, he needed to be better than everyone else out on the field. It wasn’t enough he was dating the queen bee, he had to make sure no one else dated her either. It didn’t make it right but Danny understood Jackson. Still there were some things niggling at his brain when Lydia went over the ‘kanima’ bit of the story.

“Wait, no one died at Jungle, right?” Danny cocked his head, considering. That night had been pretty terrible overall and he’d been pretty pissed that Jackson hadn’t even called him up after the fact. Now he had a better idea why.

“Not according to the paper or what Allison told me later. You do remember that you were knocked out because of Jackson, yes?” she arched a perfectly groomed brow, her expression suggesting that Danny was soft in the head.

Danny smirked slightly. “I also remember my ex being knocked out worse. He was protecting me. And probably reminding me that I was a dumbass for dating that asshole in the first place.” He snorted.

“I guess that makes sense if you’re crazy and Jackson,” Lydia clearly didn’t think it was a valid reason and Danny gave a soft chuckle.

“Jackson is-”

“-Jackson,” She finished for him. They shared that at least. They were both quite aware of the fact he was an asshole and didn’t deny it. He could get on your nerves but when Jackson took someone into his confidence... they were there for life. Danny was certain there was nothing he wouldn’t do for himself or Lydia to be honest.

“You know we’ve been best friends almost since the day I moved here, back in second grade,” he mused fondly.

She smiled, a little sardonic thing. “I remember how young we all were, in Mrs. Green’s class. You do realize that you coming from Hawaii had been the most exciting thing of our entire year?”

He laughed softly, feeling more on solid ground than anything to do with werewolves and kanima and murder. “Everyone wanted to be my best friend but Jackson staked out his claim first.” Danny smiled again, grateful that their friendship had weathered through so many things- Jackson’s adoption, Danny’s coming out (Jackson’d been pissed, mostly because he had still been leery of being lied to after his adoption), their first boyfriends and girlfriends. They could weather this too. “So. Clearly I need to catch up on all this ‘werewolf’ stuff. What exactly does Derek need with five teenaged werewolves-”

They both paused when a howl rang out into the air, long and loud. Before either of them could speak or even react much, Jackson crashed through the brush and nearly bowled over Danny. He caught up his friend by his arms but nearly jumped back when Jackson bared _fangs_ at him.

“Holy shit!” Danny couldn’t help the words bursting out- Jackson’s face was so strange looking, almost not like him at all. Not only were his eyes gold now, he appeared to be missing his eyebrows, and he was sporting an impressive set of sideburns. “This is real.”

“Of course it’s real!” Lydia snapped, moving to grasp Jackson by the back of his neck and pulling him down into a hug. Jackson seemed terrified however, eyes darting back in the direction he’d crashed into them from.

“Such a charming scene. Truly, it is a testament to the human heart.” A handsome older man was leaning against a tree nearby, confusing Danny even more when Lydia froze up next to him and Jackson growled. Like an actual growl.

His eyes flicked over to Danny and he realized he was being assessed- not like he was used to at Jungle or any of the other clubs, but with a hardness as to what his worth was. It didn’t make him feel better when the man’s lips curled up into a smile. “I can’t say I know that much about you Jackson but from what I know from Scott you do have remarkably good taste in companions. You must be Danny. I’m Peter,” He offered a hand out, as politely as he seemed to be ignoring Jackson’s mud-spattered state of undress.

“Uh-”

“Don’t.” Jackson bit out. “Don’t touch him.”

Peter’s smile never wavered though his gaze seemed to sharp, become more attentive. “You’re not still angry about killing you? I mean, you helped to kill me and I’m certainly not holding any grudges. After all... we’re like family, aren’t we.”

“Shut the fuc-” Jackson’s sneering threat was cut off as Peter was just there suddenly, a clawed hand wrapped around his throat. Danny making a muffled noise, realizing with a start that Peter was the same Alpha Lydia had been telling him about. The dots just hadn’t connected and then Danny watched him lift Jackson up onto his toes with a maddening little smile.

Lydia grabbed for Danny’s hand and tugged him back away even as she was groping in her satchel on her hip. Danny had no clue what she was up to until he saw the taser gun clutched in her hand. She froze when the probes did not hit their mark- Peter moving swiftly again to use Jackson’s body as a shield, a short garble of pain escaping their friend’s mouth.

Peter’s attention focused on her at that point. “Nice aim, my dear. You have been learning new skills since I last saw you. My fault of course. I have been shockingly neglectful of you considering how... _close_ we were.”

“Hey!” Danny stepped forward, shocked at the tone but before he could say anything else, Jackson was digging his claws into Peter’s face, like he was trying to rip it off. Unfortunately Lydia screamed at that moment, dropping the taser and clutched at her own face.

“Lydia! What did you do?!” Jackson snarled, shoving at Peter as the wolf laughed. Danny was sickly fascinated, watching the wounds on his face knitted back together right in front of their eyes.

“Nothing at all. You attacked me,” he explained, with a roll of his eyes. “No one has respect for the old ways anymore, it’s sad but I suppose, advantageous for me. Lydia is bonded to me. For the rest of our lives, in fact. I was initially a little wary of it but beggars can’t be choosers and my dear Ms. Martin is remarkable as far as humans go. I am truly distressed that she’ll never become a werewolf of my pack. But she serves other needs.”

There was something paternal (and yet deeply disturbing) in the way Peter reached out to card his fingers through her curls, his nails wickedly curved and sharp. She was muttering a soft litany of ‘no’ under her breath, shaking her head. Danny took her hand and yanked her behind him. “I don’t know what you are, alive or dead, but I’m not going to let you use either of my friends.”

Peter shook his head. “You don’t understand. I’m not going to use them- I’m going to use _you_ , Danny.”

***************

“Boyd!” Stiles was grinning ear to ear as he threw himself down the steps to the train depot. He made for the bigger boy, clapping him on the shoulder. Scott joined him a moment later, smiling happily for the first time in what seemed like at least a month, if not longer. He grabbed both of them by the back of their necks and pulled them in for a hug that had Stiles squawking. “Ack! Off, off, not all of us are made out of muscles on top of muscles!”

“Sorry man, just glad to see people again,” Boyd admitted, warm brown eyes playful as he released both of them. Erica emerged from the train, followed by Isaac.

“Right because hanging around Lydia Martin was such a chore,” Erica gave a catty grin that made Stiles scowl, even as she pounced on Boyd for a hug of her own. Isaac pressed a hand to Boyd’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“Hey, Lydia’s a wonderful human being who simply knows that she’s better than most of humanity and probably should just rule us all, save a lot of time,” He retorted, huffing as Isaac made a whipping motion and Boyd laughed.

“She’s not bad, actually. Never really interacted much with her before she saved my bacon. She’s good in my book,” Boyd appeased, shrugging huge shoulders. No one really noticed it, but Erica’s face turned surprised and then her lips pressed in a thin line, letting the boys continue to chat around her.

“Not bad meaning, not bad enough to take her out?” Isaac arched a brow and Stiles’ mouth hung open.

“Wait, what?”

“It wasn’t anything. She wanted food so I took her to a place to eat food,” Boyd shrugged. Stiles felt a little betrayed but really, it wasn’t like some part of him didn’t expect Lydia to wind up dating someone new. The fact that Boyd might be it was a little... well completely out of the blue. He’d be less surprised if she announced she was dating Allison.

Not that that wasn’t an interesting fantasy to have (one never shared with Scott for obvious reasons). Still, he shook off the disappointment and then realized he wasn’t crushed. A little dejected but... maybe he was hanging onto the Lydia thing out of habit? She was still a goddess of course and he’d murder Boyd if he hurt her... but what?

Maybe it was magic. Anti-love magic. It would explain his love life.

“As entertaining as it is to watch him make those faces, can someone tell me why we’re down here instead of at the house?” Erica asked, flicking Stiles meanly on the ear with a claw, ignoring the yelp he made. “Not that I was having nightmares of never having running water again or anything.”

“It’s not that bad,” Isaac protested, shrugging his shoulders, sitting himself down next to Scott. “We’re not getting rained on.”

“Really? That’s your baseline? _Hey we’re not stuck in a torrential downpour without adequate cover, it’s a good day_?” Stiles snorted, flopping down on a... well, he wasn’t entirely sure what it was he was sitting on. A modern art installation would not be out of the question. “And I wasn’t making faces. I was putting in place my ‘defending Lydia’s honor’ plan in case Boyd gets fresh.”

Boyd gave him one of the bitchiest looks he’d received in a long time and Stiles knew bitchy looks. Derek Hale anyone?

“I thought it would be better,” Scott piped up, shoulders hunched forward. “I told Derek that I met one of the Alphas earlier today.”

Stiles gaped. “Um, why didn’t you say anything to me? Hello, best friend in the entire universe, how can I not know these things?” He made a face. And though he was making light of the situation, it still bothered him. Scott didn’t hide things from him unless he was pretty sure Stiles wasn’t going to like whatever boneheaded decision he made.

Scott not looking at him was a dead giveaway despite the casual shrug. “I guess I just thought I should tell Derek first, he’s the Alpha.”

“It was a good call.” Derek Hale, master of creeping in and out undetected, wasn’t sure how long he’d been _just observing_ his Pack, but he knew it had been long enough to watch their discussion lean towards unproductive. Peter had slipped in unawares as well, smirking. “It’s about time we met the Alphas head on. We’ve still got the zombie Argent situation to deal with, but the Alphas are going to keep using it to their advantage to catch us off guard.”

“I don’t think so,” Stiles, of course it was, argued. “I think they’re using this situation to feel out how you’ll respond to a threat in your territory. I mean, c’mon, they could’ve attacked us at any time. Scott met two of them and fought one.”

“Don’t forget the kidnapping,” Erica pointed out, looking a tad bit disgruntled.

“Exactly, you can’t forget kidnapping!”

“Even if you want to,” Boyd muttered.

Derek shrugged and motioned towards Erica and Boyd. “There was kidnapping,” he agreed. “And we definitely _aren’t_ forgetting that series of unfortunate events. Quite frankly, they’re trying to feel us out and we have to actually do something here, Stiles. There’s nothing wrong with requesting a meeting. Their pack member attacked one of our own without provocation.”

“Exactly!” Stiles flailed, scrambling to stand up, moving into Derek’s space. “We need to have a game plan. We need to figure out what they want so we can make them do what we want and that way we’re not getting screwed over! I’ve been reading up on Alpha packs and werewolf dynamics and-”

“And yet you still tend to talk out of turn,” Peter pointed out idly, arching a brow. “Most Alphas aren’t quite as... lenient as Derek is. If you were so bold with a real Alpha you’d find your face missing... well... your face. They’re not going to listen to a child.”

Derek gave a small smile in Stiles’s direction but didn’t argue with what Peter was saying. “None of this is going to fly in front of the Alpha pack, especially the part where you talk as much as you’re talking... any minute of any given day, when you aren’t sleeping,” he sighed.

“I’m all in favor of Stiles shutting the hell up more,” Boyd declared, holding up a hand. “Can we vote on that?”

Isaac nodded and Erica smirked. When Stiles whirled towards Scott, he was greeted with a sheepish wrinkle of his nose. “You do kinda talk a lot... ”

“Lies and slander! Also, so not the point,” He pouted, glaring at the wolves. Werewolves sucked. See if he gave any of them any daring last minute rescues. “The point is-”

“The point is... you’re not getting the point which is _shut up, Stiles_ ,” Derek said calmly. “Everyone is trying-”

Stiles glared and stalked right up to Derek, poking him in the chest. “Everyone else is not _thinking_! What are you going to go in there with? What do they want? What are you going to do or say to convince them that they shouldn’t just eat you and all your little puppies too? Huh?! What are you going to do if they aren’t going to let you handle zombie Argent and make sure he doesn’t kill anyone else! I can totally be a good little packmate and shut the hell up but you’ve got to do more than glare them to death with your eyebrows!”

And that was the point that Derek had _had enough_. At first, he just stared between the finger in his chest and Stiles’s face. He let him say what he had to say, and then he casually took the finger and held it. Tight. “ _I have to do whatever is necessary to keep them off our tails until we can formulate a plan.”_

He let Stiles’s finger go, but didn’t remove his gaze. “For now, what is necessary is that I go to _them_ and have a verbal confrontation to feel them out and see what their plans are.” Just the fact that Stiles was pretending _any_ of them were idiots was grating on his nerves. “ _After that, we will do whatever the fuck else we need to do. Understand?_ ”

Stiles was fuming. Everyone could see it, the way he wouldn’t look away from Derek’s eyes, even as he shook at the Alpha voice the older man was using. He wasn’t backing down, locking his jaw like the stubborn fool he could be.

“Stiles,” Scott’s voice was worried but he was willing to go to bat for his best friend if he had to. He shifted his weight, hands open and ready at his sides. He wasn’t shifted, surprisingly, though.

“I got it,” Stiles replied finally, glaring a moment longer before he jerked his eyes away. “Derek is the Alpha and clearly that’s the only thing that matters,” he sniped, attempting to tug his finger out of Derek’s grip with little success.

“You could always serve up Stiles as an appetizer if push came to shove,” Peter pointed out, idly like he was commenting on what lovely weather they were having and of course, seventeen year old boy make excellent hors d’oeurves. “That would solve the problem rather neatly,” he goaded.

Derek didn’t even bother with a response. He just glared at Peter with Alpha red eyes, assuring him that was not the button to push.

Peter was far too amused in return, eyes flicking back to Stiles when he turned to complain at Scott for something else, lingering on the long line of the boy’s tempting pale neck.

Then, oh _then_ , Derek _did_ growl, effectively letting go of Stiles in the process. “No.”

He smoothed his emotions down and proceeded to exit. “It’s not all about what _I say_ ,” he threw over his shoulder. “I expect to hear some ideas when I get back from setting this up. Stay, go... just make sure we have some strategies for the walking dead Argent.”

Peter let the wash of squabbling teenaged voices just butt at the edges of his senses. Derek was not handling things as he would have if their positions had been reversed- but then again, had they, Derek would be dead, unlike himself. Loose ends were nothing to sneer at after all.

The voices rose in anger over pulling in Allison and her pet gunmen on the hunt. It was one thing to relay the information to her, it was quite another to invite them to share in the kill. The girl had a remarkable killer instinct in her that intrigued him on one level but that was not a priority to him at the moment. Still, it was hardly a surprise given what stock she came from- the Argents liked to pretend that their viciousness was born from nobility. Clearly it wasn’t, if the draugr was anything to go by. It was all but mindless, a beast of rage and hate. When you let your emotions cloud you, it was far, far easier to be defeated, even by inept teenagers.

Peter wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. While they argued about the monster, he was going to focus his energies on the Alpha pack. They were not here simply because of the kanima. They wanted what the Hale pack had and frankly it didn’t surprise him. The Hale pack had had a beautiful stretch of territory since they settled in California, two hundred odd years ago. And up until recently, they had always had enough wolves to defend it.

Having Jackson and Danny stashed away helped but it would be a last resort, something for Peter to use when he’d run out of other options. He couldn’t help but relish the memory of their faces when he’d grabbed the boys. Especially as he made quite clear to his dear Lydia that if she spoke a word of it, he’d kill them both. Lydia was muzzled and none of the Pack was the wiser for it. He was half tempted to throw out a taunting remark reminding them about Lydia or Jackson but he didn’t trust one of the smarter ones to pick up on it. Like Stiles.

Stiles was the one he’d have to tread carefully around. It wasn’t that Stiles couldn’t be convinced of the necessity of Peter’s actions- he demonstrated quite baldly where his triggers were, but he also wouldn’t give up easily. He was smart enough to figure out what Peter was up to before he was ready to step out against Derek. And despite their squabbling, Stiles had a clear preference for his surly nephew.

But he wasn’t that important in the grand scheme of things- Stiles would either fall in line or be killed. If things went as badly as Peter suspected they might, it wouldn’t matter what Stiles thought. The pups would hardly have to be convinced to turn on Derek. Scott already proved himself to be a less than trustworthy ally- though his pesky moralizing would have to be placated. And once he had Scott, the rest would follow, easy as knocking over dominoes.

For the time being however, Peter was content to let Derek blunder about and get the Alphas to reveal their objectives and their strengths. Let the children show off their capabilities for now.

“Wh.... seriously, a boy band? You think _that’s_ their big plan?!”

.... or perhaps not.


	11. In Which There is a Meeting of the United Council of Asshole Alphas And Stiles Does Something Very, Very Dumb

When Derek returned to the train station, he informed them that he’d finalized the meeting with the Alphas. They would go to the cabin by the reservoir deep in the heart of the Reserve, which meant they would have to start out following morning if they wanted to make good time. No one was especially thrilled but Alpha’s orders and all.

They decided to meet up at the Hale house ruins and head on from there- which lead to Stiles stumbling out of his jeep at stupid o’clock, nursing the remains of his Red Bull mournfully. He spotted the pack lounging all over the front porch (or what was left of it), even Scott was already there.

“Dude you ditched me? I am heartbroken!” Stiles pouted.

Scott shrugged. “Had to help out before you got up. We have to bring the Alphas food.”

Derek stood in the far end of the porch, staring at Stiles. Just... staring. Pondering. Stiles was definitely the weak pack link as far as the Alphas were going to be concerned. His pack knew better; they knew just how important Stiles was. Foreign wolves with old world mentality? All they were going to think was that he didn’t _smell_ like pack.

And he was human. That was going to be the worst part.

“Come here, Stiles,” he called as he entered the house.

Stiles cocked his head, curious. “What? Did I do something wrong? I’ve been here all of two minutes, tops,” he muttered. He glanced at Scott but he shrugged, jostling Isaac’s long arm that was thrown over his shoulders. That was a little weird too but hey, at least it wasn’t Peter.

Popping his head inside, Stiles didn’t see Derek right away. “Uh, shouldn’t we get going?” He stepped all the way into the burnt, broken shell of the house, realizing that other than the time he’d dragged Erica there, he’d never really been inside. “Why are you being mysterious now? Getting cold feet?”

“Just shut up and come here.” Derek’s voice came from the far back of the house, further back than Stiles had ever been.

“Come where? Okay, you’re weird. Really weird. Do you need a pep talk? A hug? I always thought you were a hugger. Those big arms are the perfect hugging material- not that I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it but c’mon-”

Derek was busy rummaging around through an old dresser up against the wall of what was more than apparently a bedroom of some sort. “You don’t smell like pack enough,” was all he said, still busy finding... something.

Stiles blinked. Huh, Derek didn’t sleep standing up. Somehow that was surprising to him. “Okay? Well, gimme a shirt again, that worked the first time right?”

“Not quite good enough for this meeting,” he said, rising up to his feet. “This time, we’re going to be face to face. They’re going to need to smell _pack_ all over you.”

“Duh,” Stiles rolled his eyes, legs jiggling impatiently. “I read up on this last night, thank you very much. I don’t know what you expect to do about eau de Pack. Can’t we do a group-”

Derek put a finger to Stiles’ lips and promptly grabbed him by the back of the neck. “Shut up.”

He hesitated for a moment and tilted his head, pondering the best way to get _pack scent_ on Stiles that wouldn’t scar him for life. The lack of options made his lips twitch up into a mischievous grin, one he found he was quickly associating with Stiles interaction. “You’re going to hate this,” he insisted, “but you’re going to suck it up and deal with it.”

Hand still on the back of Stiles’s neck, he pulled him close, his thumb pressing Stiles’s head to one side to better expose his neck. “If you don’t hate this,” he whispered, breath close against the exposed skin, “then we’re having a talk when we get back.” Before anything else could be said or questioned, he pressed his mouth against the skin and proceeded to lick a trail upwards towards his ear.

“Hey, hey, bad touch Derek! Bad touch!” Stiles flailed. This was not- this was not - he couldn’t even finish a sentence in his head this was so not happening. He didn’t want to have a talk about this because that meant this actually happened and... holy shit why did no one tell him stubble felt good on your skin?

“Bad touch,” Derek said softly, letting an earlobe slip between his teeth, “would be me shoving my hand into your pants, or tearing the pants off completely. That’s not what this is about, dumbass.”

He did his best to keep Stiles from flailing too much, stopping every so often to ensure there was as much pack scent as he could manage without outright molesting him. He knew pack scent would honestly require _all_ of the pack to participate... but he really didn’t think he liked that idea either. Stiles was his obnoxious little human, as far as his wolf was concerned, and he didn’t bother to think any further past it than that. “Now take off your jacket and put this other one on.”

He let him go and reached down to the box, grabbing the leather coat he’d left perched on the lip of the box. “Chop, chop, Stiles.”

“... huh? Oh! Right, right,” Stiles’ face was red. He knew it was. He could feel the heat coming off of it and kinda wanted to kick Derek in the shins for making him... feel like that. Especially because clearly it was some werewolf thing and he had no idea what he was really doing to Stiles. Or he did and he was a dick anyways. That was probably the more likely option. Stiles kinda wanted to hate Derek for it but... well, it was hardly Derek’s fault Stiles was a horny teenager. He finally got his arms into the sleeves of the jacket, pulling it up. It was too big through the chest and shoulders but fit the length of his body and arms pretty well.

Derek watched him put on the coat with more than a hint of interest. He was actually doing a lackluster job of hiding his pleased approval at Stiles wearing his clothes the second time around. He moved closer but didn’t reach out and hold him in place. He simply bent down and inhaled the scent and threw all rules about personal space out the window.

“Hey nosy, we have things to do! Go be Alpha to your pack,” Stiles smooshed at Derek’s face and squirmed out from under his looming posture. Trying to run through the woods _with_ a woody was not the fun times Stiles was looking for. Nope!

“Yes we do,” he agreed. “Add having a talk to the list for later.”

He said nothing further as he exited the room.

When Stiles scrambled outside, everyone gave him a look and for a second he was sure every single one of them knew he was a raging hormone for his (kinda sort) Alpha Derek Hale. Erica pouted, Isaac wrinkled his nose and Boyd rolled his eyes as the three of them followed Derek into the woods.

Scott was the only one who frowned heavily. “Why do-”

“Nope!”

“But-”

“Nope, nope, nope!”

“Agreed,” Derek smirked. “ _Nope_ is good enough for now.”

Scott didn’t seem satisfied with that but knew he wouldn’t be getting anything else from anyone right then.

The trek through the woods was hampered thanks to Stiles the human being unable to run with the rest of the pack. He sensed the resentment, briefly, until they realized that the sooner they all got to the creepy old cabin the sooner they’d have to actually interact with the Alpha pack.

Regardless of what Derek had said, Stiles interrogated Peter about who he thought might comprise the Alphas given what he used to know about the other packs in their area.

“One of them will no doubt be Talbot,” Peter decided after a long moment to think for himself. Boyd flinched and rubbed at his head, frowning but then they were all urged to keep going. “As you are one of my absolute favorites, I suggest you keep well away from him, Stiles. He does not have the Hale compassion for humans.”

“Weren’t you just trying to suggest using me as human shishkabob yesterday?” He pointed out, scrambling over roots and moss, trying not to trip and give the older werewolf the excuse to get his hands on him.

“I was _teasing_ of course. Besides, clearly that is already taken care of,” He gestured vaguely towards the deer being carried by Erica and Scott, rather effortlessly.

“Riiight,” Stiles snorted and jogged ahead to catch up with Scott again, while trying to avoid staring at the expression on the deer’s face (it was creepy but not as creepy as Peter- also not likely to bite his face). His brain still whirling away with information he’d been up all night cramming in his head. Stuff like this, werewolf or humans, was all about leverage and who had the most information. If they could get the Alpha pack to give up what they were after then Stiles was certain they’d be in a better bargaining position. But they needed a way to make that happen. They needed a reason for the Alpha pack to mess up.

They got to the cabin much sooner than expected, Stiles’ mind still racing. Isaac and Boyd dropped the freaking huge buck on the front of the steps. It apparently was good werewolf manners to bring dead things to your guests or something. He thought it was bad manners that the Alphas waited until now to come out of the cabin. There were five werewolves but only two Alphas given the red glowing eyes that flashed briefly at them all.

“Derek Hale,” Derek said, body rigid but each word its own version of _why the hell are we doing pleasantries again_? “I’m pretty sure the introduction part is unnecessary.” Word inflection was careful; best to say very little and imply knowledge of being hunted as opposed to saying a lot and implying ego more massive than all the packs combined.

“So we’ve heard,” The biggest guy Stiles had ever seen stepped forward, his bulky body dwarfing all of them as a slow, mean grin curled up his lips. He had a nasty looking scar on the left side of his face, which boggled Stiles’ mind. How did a werewolf even get a scar and did he really want to know? “You’re a scrawny little runt.”

“Talbot,” The pretty young brunette Alpha snapped at him but Talbot ignored her, showing her his back.

“Don’t think that you can order me around little girl. I’m not one of your whelps. None of mine would be so weak,” he sneered. He flexed claws at them, fangs on display.

Stiles felt his pack shift into flight or fight instincts and he held his breath as Derek held up his hand. “So how many wolves does it take to be hyped up on the equivalent of a warehouse full of steroids?” He couldn’t help but smirk at that. “I doubt anyone here cares and we’re wasting time, making your Lead Alpha waste their time as well.”

The female Alpha arched her brows, impressed with Derek’s bravado, her packmate snorting. Talbot, however, clearly did not like the insinuations- either that he wasn’t Lead Alpha or that Derek was not impressed by him. He snarled, fur curling up the side of his face as he stepped forward.

“Don’t think that you’re gonna talk yourself out of this Hale. Your little pack is going to be ripped to shreds and I’ll have my teeth in your neck long before you see me coming for you. I’ll enjoy it too,” he snapped his teeth and his betas- a lanky red-headed man and a tiny Asian girl (that reminded Stiles far, far too much of the creepy killer schoolgirl from _Kill Bill_ ) laughed like hyenas.

Isaac and Erica snarled back at them, upset, with eyes flashing gold. Stiles wondered if the four of them had tangled before. Given the grins they were shooting his friends, he was pretty certain he was depressingly on the money there.

Derek grinned even wider. “Is that a promise? That you’ll have your teeth in my neck? That might be exciting.”

“Your sister thought it was.”

The grin faded, but his resolve remained unchanged. “I don’t give a damn how big you are or how many betas it takes you make you as powerful as you think you are,” he growled, words icy. “You mention my sister again and _I will kill you_.”

Stiles stepped forward and stood just at Derek’s shoulder. Not touching him, not giving a signal that he had control over the Alpha, just that he had his back. The rest of their pack shifted behind them, on their toes, ready to fight more experienced and stronger opponents. It was touching except for the part it was probably going to get them killed.

From inside there was a warning growl that had everyone’s skins prickling, regardless. It was quite apparent that was the growl of a very old, very powerful Alpha, given how even Peter seemed uncomfortable.

No one moved for a long time, everyone still tense, waiting to see who would be the first among them to capitulate. Stiles, never good at waiting, was all but vibrating with energy. Still, it wasn’t one of them that stepped forward- it was the brunette Alpha.

“Are you finished? We can either fight this out right here, right now, or we can discuss other ways to handle this,” She gestured towards the door, making her beta step back. He looked a lot like her but pissy- Stiles briefly wondered if she knew what her own pack was voting for.

Derek held up his hand soundlessly, urging them to calm down (and showing his control over his own pack in the move). Stiles didn’t have to worry about putting away the fangs in front of other wolves but he still didn’t like giving in first.

“I’m Vanessa Savakis, I’m the Alpha the pack close to Redding. I was the one that approached your beta,” she gave a little nod of her head at Scott, who did the same. “I hope we can resolve this with a minimum of bloodshed.” She smiled tightly, clearly trying to make this less awkward- Stiles had to give her points for trying. “This is my second, Dominic. You just met Talbot and his betas, Ian and Sofie.”

Talbot sneered at them, along with his hungry jackals.

Derek nodded and walked inside, but didn’t feel the need to say anything further. Few words meant there weren’t as many to potentially hang yourself with later on. The air was electric, hovering on the edge of savagery. _None_ of them felt friendly and they definitely weren’t giving off pleasant vibes no matter how polite Vanessa’s words were.

 _‘Be on guard.’_ It was the first time Derek had attempted to reach out to other pack members and found himself and his pack become a bit stronger due to it. This, sadly, didn’t do much for Stiles, but Boyd was thankfully on _point_ about that. Boyd’s eyes flicked over to Derek and held for a moment, long enough to assure his Alpha that he understood what he needed to do if things went south.

The cabin was big and clearly some, if not all, of the wolves had been staying in there. Their scents were too new for him to tell exactly which had been there, but it was likely at least Vanessa and her beta had been, their scents the most dominant.

Vanessa moved up to the unlit fireplace and stood next to the hearth, Dominic shadowing her but not before he knocked shoulders with Scott, jostling the younger boy. Stiles opened his mouth to snap at him but luckily Boyd caught his eye and shook his head in warning. Erica pressed up tight to Stiles’ side, giving him a wink. At least she got him.

Vanessa stood, arms akimbo, waiting for the packs to be settled as much as they were ever going to. Derek and his betas were surrounded in the center of the room which was so not good, Stiles didn’t have words for it. He also wanted to know just where the hell the third Alpha was hiding out. Talbot and his cronies were licking their chops and grinning as if they were just waiting to turn this into a meat grinder of a party.

“Are we waiting for the Lead Alpha to tell us why we’ve been tracked?” Derek was as firm as he could be without being demanding. Standing his ground without trying to _take_ ground. The Alpha song and dance was one he never liked but could certainly do. “Or is that something you could shed some light on? Since we’re here waiting, and all... ”

Vanessa glanced back towards a shadowy doorway but there was clearly no one that was going to be walking through it any time soon. She squared her shoulders, seeming resolute. Stiles realized that she was actually only Derek’s age, maybe a year or two younger than he was. She seemed just as ill at ease with being an Alpha as he had been but she too tried not to show it.

“We’re here, Hale pack, because of the intolerable way in which you handled the situation with the hunters and more to the point, how you handled the kanima. You know as well as we do that kanima are dangerous. You were reckless in turning one.” It sounded almost rehearsed, as if she’d memorized the way she was going to approach this conversation.

“No offense, Vanessa, but I didn’t see any of your packs running to assist with the kanima.” Derek crossed his arms over his chest. “All I saw was a small pack, barely recognizable in size, doing their best to handle the creature _without_ losing the wolf who was trapped inside. All I see now is a large swarm of wolves, coming in to declare _failure and shame_ in the aftermath of something they could have more than easily assisted with. Instead of hanging back to watch it all fall apart, that is... ”

Dom pushed past Vanessa even as she growled out a warning, talking over her. “Don’t go blaming anyone but yourself for your own fucking mess Hale. You’re the one to blame, just like it’s your fault that psychotic asshole Argent came west again!” There was a hurt there, something angry and looking for blame. “You can bitch all you want but at least our pack knows how to handle ourselves, better than yours do. You and your little pet _humans_.”

There was Derek’s wonderful shit eating grin coming out to play once more. “Am I really the one at fault here? I think you just want someone to blame because that’s what’s convenient. It gives _technical_ right to do a multitude of things, and there are a _multitude_ of things that are associated with the last name Hale, most of which involve people wanting revenge, people wanting something for nothing... the list goes on and on. The best you could all come up with was our handling of the Kanima?”

He was a little more annoyed than he’d intended to convey with facial expressions but the bullshit charges coupled with the lack of anything from their end except blame and more blame was ridiculous. “Really?” Just ridiculous.

“Seems to me like you’re just the type to invite that on yourself Hale,” Dom went on heedlessly. “And with just cause since the kanima’s still alive and now you have something else out there eating people! How many people were killed again?”

Although Vanessa looked chagrined as Dom continued to speak out of turn, she lifted her chin once towards Derek. She wanted the answer as much as any of them did. “Go on, Hale.”

“Are you here because of the Kanima or are you here because of the draugr? I don’t think you even know _why_ you’re here... or maybe you do, but it doesn’t work in your favor to tell me. How many treaties are you prepared to break to get whatever it is you’re here to get?” Derek was dangerously close to outright leaving. They’d have to fight their way out, but he could probably buy them all enough time to do so. There was something so familiar and yet so _damn frustrating_ about having to stand accused of things that were, for lack of better wording, _bullshit_.

“You know what this is about Hale,” Talbot’s voice cut in, low and cruel. “Your little pack... it’s nothing to us. Can’t even get rid of one hunter family can you? Course... your families’ve been fighting how long now? No wonder there’s none of you left.”

“If it’s nothing then _why are you still here_?” He wasn’t bothering with the mentality of Talbot and wolves like him. They were focused on power and control, the things that were typical of the wolf mentality. He wanted more than that for himself and for his pack. He didn’t even feel compelled to explain this to anyone who wouldn’t understand anything beyond primal urges.

“Jackson isn’t a problem anymore, anyways, he’s a werewolf!” Scott couldn’t keep quiet anymore, apparently, stepping up to Derek’s shoulder. “We handled him and the hunters. We have peace with them now.”

“There’s no such thing as peace with hunters,” Dom retorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re a bunch of idiots.”

“Have you ever even tried? You’re all so quick to hate humans-”

“With good reason! Look at you,” He waved a dismissive hand at the pack and Erica actually snapped her teeth at him. The other betas flashed their claws like ridiculous Ginsu knife demonstrators. “A bunch of _teenagers_. Your pack is a joke. Practically the first thing Hale does is turn a kanima! No one’s turned a kanima in decades! Says something about you doesn’t it?!”

“Okay, so he turned a bunch of teenagers, it’s not like he could go around biting adults, who’s gonna be that dumb?”

“Thank you Scott,” Peter rolled his eyes. He’d been remarkably quiet up until then, just gauging what was going on. “Joke or not, we are a pack. This territory is claimed.”

“Yeah, so fuck off,” Erica stepped forward and Isaac reached for her, but she shrugged his hand away. “Who the hell are _you_?”

“I am Dominic Savakis, son of Lycaon Savakis, I am a pure blood wolf that can trace my blood back seven hundred years! Packs like yours, full of turned wolves, are the reason hunters have all but wiped out our kind! You’re the problem, you and everything you’ve done!”

Stiles had enough, unable to be quiet any longer while Derek got it from all sides. So he was running his mouth. Because that’s what he did and this was the only thing he could think of off the top of his head to turn it around in their favor. He stepped forward towards Dominic, tilting his chin down like he read in Deaton’s journals and locked eyes with him. “Y’know I’m really starting to see that you have absolutely no freaking clue here. Like none at all. You run your mouth, acting like you know better how to run a pack just cuz you’re from some werewolf version of the founding families?”

Dom sneered down at Stiles immediately, eyes flashing gold. “Tuck tail, meat.”

“You think you can scare me?” he bared his teeth turning it into a twisted grin, one that got an immediate snarl. “I’ve stood up to more Alphas than you have in my life, there’s only one Alpha I follow and you’re not it. Oh! That’s right. You’re not even an Alpha- your sister is. You’re a beta. A second. No better than little ol’ human me. God that must burn that I share the same rank you do, huh?”

And that was when the shit hit the fan. Dominic lunged for Stiles, snapping his teeth at his throat. He had expected it and for once in his life, he twisted out of the way with something resembling coordination. But Dom was a werewolf so he corrected his lunge quickly, whipping around.

That was when Derek stepped in- roaring, eyes a livid, bloody red, rattling the rafters. Dom crouched back from the display, surprise coloring his fear. Talbot’s pack wasn’t attacking- that surprised Stiles, until he realized they were waiting for an opportunity to kill either of their packs.

Rather than focus on that little notion, Stiles took one more step that he’d had a shaky plan for since he started planning for the Alphas’ arrival. He approached Derek in his still Alpha-ed out glory and bared the length of his neck to the older man- the deferential display he’d ever made towards Derek and in full view of all the assembled werewolves. Stiles hoped that his apprehension could be written off as a byproduct of tugging on Dom’s tail so to speak.

“You’re a damn idiot.” Each word was a growl, a growl of a wolf that was trying to remember what Stiles had just basically said with his bared neck and _submissive take me now_ vibes. Now he _had_ to do something otherwise they would tear Stiles apart at the first opportunity that arose. Even though he had to, he was finding that he _wanted_ to.

You just didn’t run around baring your neck to people. What the hell?

It was quick but it served its purpose. Derek leaned in towards the offered skin and gave it the smallest of bites. _This is mine_ he basically said.

Talbot’s eyes narrowed and when a low snarl came out of that terrifying face, Stiles was man enough to admit that he pressed closer to Derek. Who, to his credit, didn’t push him away to be eaten on his lonesome.

“Is it true?” Talbot demanded.

Derek lifted his chin and stared him down, Alpha to Alpha, before nodding once. Master of conversation, that was Derek... though Stiles wasn’t entirely sure what was going on.

“It doesn’t change anything,” Talbot snapped even as Dom looked paler than before. “He’s human.”

“You know that doesn’t matter,” Vanessa countered, her expression resting thoughtfully on Derek’s face and then dropping down to Stiles. Shaking her head, she gestured. “Everyone out. Lycaon will want to speak to Derek alone.”

No one was eager to leave first but eventually all of the werewolves slipped outside but Derek yanked Stiles back and did what he usually did with him.

He slammed him up against the nearest surface and leaned in. _Close_. “You idiot,” he repeated only slightly taking in the scent and only distracting himself in the tiniest of ways with Stiles’ almost twitching bottom lip and the pulse of emotion that was coming off him. “You basically just told every damn Alpha that we’re _mated_. Good job, dumbass.”

Stiles’ triumphant (and only triumphant) feelings singing in his veins died an abrupt and surprised death. Like it had walked off a cliff Wile E. Coyote style. “What?!” His voice broke on a strained note, squirming under Derek’s hands. “That’s not- that isn’t- that’s not what the _book_ said!”

The look Derek was giving him could peel paint and Stiles’ pulse was going haywire. “Seriously dude, not what I meant at all! It was just- I was... there was a plan that did not involve being your boyfriend, I swear!” He swallowed, cheeks flushed hotly enough that Stiles was certain that Derek would think... stuff. About him. Which he did not need right now considering killer Alphas and all.

“If he challenged a pack member, like say _me_ , he could be considered violating the rules right? And I knew if I showed that I was... a lesser pack member, then that meant someone like Scott could step in to fight for me and take him out first!”

Derek leaned in a bit closer, watched as the subconscious act of averting his eyes and baring his neck offered up the same message. “But that’s not what you told him,” his voice was low and prophesied danger, but about _what_ remained to be seen. “What you told him was that you and I are mated, which means I am the one now responsible for defending your delicate sensibilities. Now we have to play the part... and I don’t think that’s what you meant to say.”

His words were so very careful and told nothing about his own stance on the matter, letting his conflicting body language mask his own emotions. “I don’t like these things being forced upon anyone,” he whispered against Stiles’ ear. “To remove choice from the equation makes it a lie... and I think we’ve gone over my disgust with dishonesty.”

Stiles licked his lips and considered. They didn’t have time. Not for a conversation like this but when did he ever?

“I get that. I really do but... we can work with it,” he was careful with his words, knowing that if he chose the wrong ones Derek would shut down quickly. And in spite of how he found Derek extremely frustrating, he didn’t want him to lock him out for something like this even more than other things. “We’ll figure it. Right now though, it’s a good thing. They can’t attack me because that would be really bad. I mean, it would have been bad anyways and it’s not like I was really happy to possibly risk my neck but what can you do? So, you let them think whatever they want to think right now and I’ll buy us some time. You trust me, I know you do- enough for this,” he added quietly, hoping it would be enough this time.

Derek couldn’t really deny he did. Stiles? He trusted. “Alright,” he conceded, but his hand still slipped lightly against Stiles’ neck. “You’re right. Probably the best way to keep you safe is to go with this...”

He moved away from him so he could breathe. _So they could both breathe_. “This isn’t as easy as pretending the part when we think they’re looking,” he sighed. “Even when we think the coast is clear, it might not be. We have to constantly be on guard and constantly play the part. Do you understand? If you still have a little crush on Lydia, you have to put it to the back of your mind until this is sorted out, because killing an Alpha’s mate for straying is permitted under the old laws.”

“Because you can sniff out lies. I got it.” Stiles’ Adam’s apple bobbed but he nodded, his expression steady and fearless, which was not entirely how he felt. “I’m good if you’re good. Besides, once you’ve gone Stilinski well...” He trailed off, smirk falling off his face. “Yeah, I got nothing.”

Licking his lips, Stiles breathed out and started over. “Just... be careful. Especially around Talbot. He’s one full moon away from a total meltdown. You can tell.”

“I can handle a crazy old wolf. I just have to figure out how to give off the vibe that I think about you sexually every second of every day.”

“What?!” Stiles gaped then covered his face, giving a low moan. “We’re all going to die.”

“If there was ever a time for you to shut up,” he growled, “that time is now.”

He wasted no time heading back out into the midst of the Alphas, starting with the betas, guiding Stiles back to their pack. It was interesting how structured and controlled the other packs were- Talbot’s betas hadn’t even bothered stepping in during the argument with Vanessa’s pack and Talbot had made no move himself. Derek wondered if his own pack would ever get to that point, hoping they could outright skip the fear-induced bow and scraping bit. Vanessa sent him directly back inside to one they called Lycaon, and Derek wondered just how old that wolf really was. There was no secret to slower aging among his kind, but Lycaon looked like he’d lived well beyond current projected life expectancies for wolves.

He said nothing as the older wolf approached and simply observed his purposely slow pace. Lycaon was definitely trying to intimidate, give the impression that he was not one to be crossed given all the displays of protocol and demands of respect. Unfortunately for Lycaon, Derek was the master of _giving no fucks and giving equal or less information on any matter he chose not to_.

“Like’em mouthy do ya? Heh.” Lycaon’s eyes were very pale. Like they’d been blue once but steadily faded with time, steady in their focus however. He wasn’t tall at all, shorter than Scott but wider through the chest still, his hands gnarled but deceptively strong. Lycaon was content to look harmless, letting the natural assumptions of youth and stupidity play in his favor. “You want Dominic’s head for the insult?”

He was watching Derek closely, waiting for an answer to reveal more of the younger Alpha’s mind to him.

“Yes.” That was the response requested and it felt natural to say. It was entirely possible this _pretend mating_ thing was going to be easier than he’d first thought. “As soon as possible.”

“He’s my son you know.” Lycaon pointed out idly, eyes flicking up to Derek’s face and a smirk curled up the corner of his mouth. “And Vanessa is his twin, not just his Alpha. You can say he’s been... allowed to act out more than he might should. Kind of like your... mate is it? Don’t know if I should call him that since he still smells like a virgin.”

“It’s the 21st century,” Derek shrugged. “Not everyone rushes to fill the voids in their life with sex.”

Lycaon nodded along, sitting down on the couch that seemed like it might be as old as he was. Leaning back, he looked more like a king than he had any right to. “I will concede that Dom’s a complete idiot and that you’re within your rights. But you’re on dangerous ground Hale. Your pack is a shadow of what your family once was, humans and turned wolves. Hell, it could be argued that this territory was given up several years ago.”

Derek didn’t even have to force the change in his eyes at the disgusted tone _humans_ was said in, the reminder of what had led to the idea his territory was no longer his. “Are you here to throw insults and see what I do? Or are we having a discussion about the insult your - by your own admittance - idiot son just flung at my mate?”

“Watch your tone with me boy,” Lycaon jabbed a finger at the younger Alpha, his eyes deadly sharp but not red. Not yet.

Derek looked from the finger to Lycaon. “You didn’t come here to see how weak and submissive an Alpha could be. You came here to see what you are up against. And here I am. And I’m still irritated at the insult to my mate.”

Lycaon paused a moment and then let out a rusty laugh, harsh and grating. “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.” He smirked, his expression more thoughtful and if not respectful, less obviously dismissive. “Since you amuse me, I’ll level with you, Alpha to Alpha. You’re in deep shit, Hale. You turned a kanima. That’s all on you. We don’t give a damn about chewed up humans or hunters except when they threaten to expose us all. You know better than to bite without considering the consequences, you’re a born wolf. You have no alliances to call on, no strength to back up your fledgling pack. You’re a weak Alpha. You are in question, not your pack.”

Derek stood his ground even as he realized that Lycaon had been the one that had confronted him in the forest after he’d run into Jackson. Of course he was. “Then why are you wasting time posturing threats towards my pack when you could’ve cut to the chase already?”

Lycaon smirked wider. “Maybe I like to see what would make a fool turn a bunch of teenagers into werewolves.” He licked his lips and tapped a short rhythm onto the couch, as if he was actually thinking of a solution when they both knew he wouldn’t come to Beacon Hills without wanting something in return. “Originally, I had planned to suggest an alliance between Vanessa and you. A formal melding of your packs. It would’ve been the best option for everyone, I think.”

He paused, waiting for Derek to perhaps change his mind about something or speak up. When the younger man was stonily silent, he went on, frowning. “The fact of the matter is... you have no options. You may have a mate and a more stable pack than anyone thought, but that ain't much to crow about. Your pack would not survive a confrontation... and do you want to send children into this kind of fight? With Talbot? Give us the kanima and we will kill it since you couldn’t. Or you can be torn apart and your pack divided up between mine, Vanessa’s and Talbot’s packs.”

“Really.” This was all shades of fucked up. “Considering the depth of this _on the spot_ option package you’ve presented, I assume there’s a decision making time frame I have here?” He had absolutely no intention of choosing either, but a man needed time to make a good decision for himself.

Lycaon stood up and approached Derek, radiating the Alphaness of a wolf who’d been in charge of his pack for decades. He had absolute assurance in his own power. “On account of the insult to your mate... you have until after the full moon.”

Derek gave a nod and said nothing further. An Alpha on a timer was allowed the luxury of not having to curtsey, twisting on his heel to leave.

“Come on, cupcake,” he growled, roughly planting his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck once he stepped outside, leading them away from the other wolves. “Thanks to your little act of stupidity, we have an epic problem of epic proportions.”

Stiles stumbled after Derek, giving a little wave to the foreign wolves. “It’s times like this I really feel like I’m cherished and- ack! Stop pulling, fuzzface!”

No fast way to make a break for it and the wolves were wanting a show. _Great_. “And now it’s time to act like you enjoy it,” he said, the only warning offered before he put his mouth against the curve of Stiles’ neck. “They want Jackson.” He pulled his earlobe between his teeth and let his tongue trace the pattern of cartilage along his ear. “We’re not going to give him to them... which kind of means they want me dead if I don’t. Hence - problem.”

“Muwah,” Stiles shivered and tried not to flail. Flailing would be bad. He was supposed to be used to this. According to his journals, werewolves really enjoyed touching whatever they claimed. A lot. “Most people want Jackson. It’s part of the problem with Jackson if you ask me. Besides the y’know, serious mental issues. And you’re not dying for your pack. Very noble and stuff but no.”

“Considering my death would mean you all get divided up to the other ones?” Derek let his mouth continue in its work when he wasn’t deciding to talk. “No.” Confident the display was enough, he draped his arm across Stiles’s shoulders and led him further away. “Work on your _I enjoy this_ face.”

“Work on the not ambushing me in front of an audience, _pookie_ ,” He retorted, ignoring the interest radiating from their own pack that were yards ahead of them in the forest, waiting for them to catch up.

“No, see you need to work on it because that is what wolves do.” Derek slid his arm down Stiles’s back and tucked his hand into the back pocket of Stiles’s jeans, his eyes rolling when Stiles jumped. “See, _lovemuffin_? You shouldn’t be jumping. You should just be enjoying. Or at least pretending you do.”

Stiles worked his jaw, torn between questioning why he barged his way into situations like this and wanting to beat Derek about the head. Theirs was a strange relationship, fraught with... fraughty kind of things. “Okay, okay, I’ll work on not looking like a virgin at a prison rodeo, now hands to yourself, sweetheart.”

Derek grinned, more than he should have given the circumstances. “Of course, babycakes.”

“Have I mentioned lately that I hate you?”

“But I love you _so much_ , Stiles. You are the sun, the moon, my starlit sky! Without you I dwell in darkness.”

“Oh my god, shut up. Nothing good can come of you quoting ‘Willow’ at me like you’re reading my obit,” Stiles covered his face, monumentally disturbed at the words coming out of Derek Hale’s mouth. Voted most likely to be a serial killer. Or that’s what Stiles assumed was under his yearbook picture.

Although.... there was a part of him that was kinda amused as all hell that Derek had seen _Willow_ at all (even if he wasn’t anything like vintage Val Kilmer).


	12. In Which Scott Has Difficulties

The return trip to the old Hale house seemed like didn’t take as long, though Stiles could have gone decades without hearing Erica’s commentary about the ‘shotgun wedding’, which, frankly wasn’t as traumatizing as her offers to teach him a few tricks to get out of trouble with Derek. Isaac had egged her on, as had Peter. It had come to a head when Boyd wondered quietly whether or not all that research Stiles had done had involved anything to do with love spells.

Scott let the outraged yelps of Stiles wash over him (defending his own honor guys, seriously, it was alllll Derek up in this), working his jaw. His eyes were fixed on Derek’s back, which was too relaxed. This wasn’t bothering him at all. This was something he was perfectly fine with. Using Stiles like a minion in a video game, like he expected all of this to happen. Wait, did that mean that Derek had approached him in order to get to Stiles?

No. No, definitely not. But he’d figured out that Stiles wanted to be part of something. He was manipulating his best friend, letting him feel useful all while putting a huge target on his back.

His phone rang, dragging his attention away from Stiles gesturing at Derek with increasing emphatic hands. Something about wolves needing to learn the art of ‘gentle persuasion’.

“ _Scott?_ ”

Allison’s voice still made his heart calm, no matter what it seemed. Turning his back on his pack, Scott headed off a little bit, though clearly they could listen in if they wanted to. “What’s up?”

“ _We’ve been doing some digging and I found out that Gerard used to live here, about fifteen years ago and his wife was buried here. Which means, we do have a way to get the draugr into a ‘tomb’ kinda. We’ll need to do it tonight. We almost lost another hunter last night._ ”

That was one thing about Stiles’ research that seemed really tricky so Scott was glad that was one less thing to stress over. “I’ll let Derek and them know. You haven’t heard from Jackson, right?”

“ _No. He’s still missing?_ ” That was the old Allison back in her voice, full of compassion. He’d missed it a lot and almost said so but... it wasn’t the right time.

“Yeah and the Alphas want him dead.” Scott had spent far too much time trying to keep people from killing Jackson, it was getting a little bit tiring. But he couldn’t not do it either.

“ _Oh no. I’ll see if we can’t fan out more, but we’re stretched thin as is._ ” She did sound very tired and Scott wanted nothing more than to drop everything and run to her side. His feet were already turned towards her house before he realized it.

“We’ll figure it out. I know we will.” He paused, wanting to tell her that he’d always have her back and always defend her. But it didn’t come out of his mouth this time. “Hey... what do you know about werewolf mates?”

“ _Scott, this isn’t the time-_ ”

“No, no, not... us. I know you’re not-”

“ _I’m not._ ” She paused for a long moment, just breathing. “ _From what I was reading, they’re not predestined or... anything like that. Alpha’s mates are considered good omens, a sign of a healthy, thriving pack. But all wolves can take a mate, and they tend to mate only once, like actual wolves. They can share their mate’s hurts and relieve pain, which I guess might be why you’d want one. It’s also why wolves don’t mate humans very often- if they get hurt badly enough, it can kill their human mate. Why do you ask?_ ”

“I gotta go.”

Scott waited until Stiles and the other weres were out of earshot. He was calm. He was very calm when he slammed Derek up against the rather rickety outer wall of the Hale house. “What the _hell_ are you thinking?! You can’t go around making people your mate because you want to!!” He snarled, baring his fangs at him, eyes glowing golden.

Derek casually pushed off the house. He also, casually, let his eyes go Alpha-red. He may have also, equally casually, pushed Scott away from his personal space. “Stiles, in all his brilliance, gave that distinct impression - not me - to the Alpha pack.” He wasn’t in the mood for Scott’s constant need to lash out with misplaced anger. “It is the best way to keep him safe without killing people - which, if I recall correctly, you insisted I not do.”

“You didn’t have to go along with it!” He insisted. “Especially with Stiles. I mean, someone else could’ve... Erica could’ve stepped in!” Part of him knew that wouldn’t work. He’d seen what had gone down but... the idea of Derek using Stiles just made his blood boil. Derek was putting Stiles at risk and he didn’t care.

“What are you really afraid of here, Scott?” Derek crossed his arms over his chest and waited for the answer. “I’m not molesting your friend. I’m trying to keep him _safe_.”

“Maybe your track record of keeping people safe has me worried,” he snapped out unthinkingly.

Derek had wanted to be calm and as civil as possible. He didn’t want to jump into anger mode and start beating the living hell out of any of his betas before they joined up with the hunters to kill the draugr. Unfortunately for Scott, he _went there_ and because he _went there_ , Derek now had to beat his ass.

It started simply enough, with that little laugh he was prone to do right before he slammed someone into the wall. Fortunately for Scott, Peter’s entrance-making capabilities included a palm flat to his chest and a warm smile for both of them which brought him back to his senses.

“My, my, what do we have going on here? The tension, it’s palpable enough I could choke on it,” Peter mused, looking far too entertained by the way Derek and Scott were squaring off.

“A disagreement,” Derek offered.

“Over? Wait, don’t tell me. Mr. McCall is protecting Stiles’ virtue from the big, bad Alpha?” Peter made that sound absolutely lascivious, to the point Scott’s ears went bright red.

“ _No_! Not like that! I just don’t think that Derek can be trusted! Stiles has a target on his back because of him and I don’t like it,” Scott thrust his chin out.

“Stiles has a target on his back because of his own actions,” Derek corrected. “My actions are what kept him from getting torn to shreds... and spared a lot of lives. Do I need to remind you of your _own_ concessions that you required before you came back to the pack? Again?”

Peter cocked his head, obviously intrigued by the drama. Scott was still partly wolfed out, nails curled into claws. “Stiles doesn’t want to be a werewolf,” Scott insisted, trying to find a good way to word his unease with the situation beyond the fact that he felt a sort of... possessiveness. Stiles was _his_ friend, _his_ responsibility.

Derek resisted the urge to tilt his head. “Who said anything about making him a wolf?”

“Well, won’t they think it’s weird he’s not one if he’s your mate?” His claws clamped down on the brittle porch railing.

“Mine was a human,” Peter offered up. Scott was flabbergasted and he chuckled, cradling his chin in his hand and idly stroking at the goatee there. “What? Did you think I sprung up from the fire fully formed like Athena from the crown of Zeus? I had a life before it was stolen from me Scott.”

Derek honestly tried not to grin, but the smallest hint of a smirk broke free. “They were more interested with the fact that he smelled like a virgin,” he threw out there, “and I told them we wolves of the twenty-first century didn’t have overwhelming needs to _deflower_ all living things.”

Peter smirked. “I prefer some things to be the old fashioned way myself.”

“NO DE-VIRGINING ANYONE!!” Scott yelped, eyes as wide as saucers.

“No one’s _devirginizing_ ,” and he went so far as to make quotation marks out of his fingers, “-any unwilling participants of any kind. I don’t do scenarios where people lack choice. It’s up there with lying... and I don’t care for that, a personal rule which I hope is obvious at this point.”

Scott looked away, working his jaw. “I still don’t like it,” he grumbled but he couldn’t really find anything else to say.

“Distaste for the scenario noted, plan still being carried out this way for optimal safety for Stiles.”

“Don’t you mean the pack’s safety?” Scott narrowed his eyes, distrusting Derek’s motives. He turned away before he heard anything else and stomped into the woods, needing to run off the residual adrenaline and frustration.

Derek turned to Peter and gave the most exasperated look. “Was I _not_ trying there?” he sighed. “I am pretty sure that was a tantrum he just threw.”

“Of course you were,” Peter gave him a very sympathetic look in return. It was not very comforting. He smirked a little and brushed past Derek. “And tantrums are something you are intimately familiar with, aren’t you?”

Derek rolled his eyes and started off the porch, away from creepy Uncles who were no better than tantruming teenagers. “I think I like you better when you’re not trying to be your brand of helpful.”

**********

“Scott?” Alan Deaton was rather surprised to find his tech curled up in one of the dog cages with the huge mastiff that was staying with him while his master was on vacation. Scott’s head was curled over its neck, face contorted into a frustrated expression. “Something you’d like to talk about?”

“No,” Scott mumbled, stroking a hand over soft fur. He’d always wanted a dog growing up. A big one, one he and Stiles could take turns riding and pretending to be Aragon charging into battle. But his father said they didn’t have any money for a mutt, especially because of Scott’s asthma. He got a stuffed dog one year for his birthday from his mom... but his dad threw it out a few months later, saying that only sissy boys had stuffed animals.

Huffing again, Scott rubbed his face into the mastiff’s fur before dredging up from that train of thought to focus on others (though no less unhappy). He ducked out of the cage to stand next to Deaton, still waiting patiently for him to talk. “We’re going after the draugr tonight. You got any suggestions of what we should do?”

Deaton moved over to his supply cabinet and began to rummage inside. “I assume that you understand there is a process to killing one, yes?”

“Yup. Gotta get it back to its burial place, stab it with iron, cut off its head and burn it,” Scott curled up a lip in revulsion as he ticked off the points Stiles had drilled into his head. “This was not what I wanted to do on my summer vacation. At least, you know, outside of a video game.” He covered his head with his arms and deflated more. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

The words were hurting and lost. Scott was overwhelmed, turning to look up at Deaton with dark, helpless eyes. “I thought... I thought when I killed Gerard it would be over with. But it’s not. It’s never going to be over with, is it?”

Deaton leaned back against the counter, dark forearms crossed loosely over his body. His expression was patient, watching Scott’s face for a long moment. “Did you ever stop to think about the fact the Hales’ sign for vendetta is a spiral? What is a spiral Scott?”

Scott was confused but Deaton often tried to teach him stuff in roundabout ways. “Uh... a circle?”

“Exactly. It’s a circle spinning in on itself. It does not and cannot break its cycle.” His fingers were tracing a spiral on the countertop, over and over in the same groove. “It will always go back to the beginning. The Argents hunt the Hales and the Hales will hunt the Argents as they have since they first met in Frances, centuries ago.” He glanced off and Scott wondered how long Deaton had known the Hales. Had he been dragged unwillingly into this too?

“So... you’re telling me, it’s never going to stop. No matter what, just because I got turned into this?” It seemed so bleak.

“All life is filled with circles touching each other, like ripples in a pond. Where the circles connect is where we affect each other’s lives. Sometimes, this is a good thing but other times, it starts us down destructive paths. It’s only when we take a chance going from the familiar to the unknown path that we can break ourselves... for good or for ill. We cannot know one way or the other- that’s life.”

 

“I guess,” Scott took a deep breath. He wasn’t entirely sure he got what Deaton was telling him but he couldn’t help but think it was still important. “I just don’t see how I can change it. I want to. I want to go back to worrying about getting a scholarship to college and making sure I pass pre-calc and staying on the lacrosse team. I want to be a dumb teenager. I want my friends to be dumb teenagers. I want Stiles to stop smelling stressed and afraid all the time. I want Allison...” His throat closed up. “I want Allison to be happy again.”

“Sic transit gloria mundi,” Deaton smiled at Scott’s puzzled face. “So goes the glory of the world. It’s an old phrase that basically means, nothing lasts forever. Everything comes and goes in its time.”

“It still sucks when you’re in the middle of it,” Scott grumbled.

“Yes, it does. But I have faith in you Scott. I always have.”

************

Scott went home after his visit to Deaton and made his mom lunch/breakfast after her overnight shift. She was happy to see him, and he felt a little badly that she thought it was her fault for having some many double-shifts. It was enough that he wanted to tell her what he’d been up to himself for the last couple weeks but he didn’t. He just smiled and offered to spend the day with her to make up for it.

He thought of previous summers where he’d whined and complained about being forced to help his mom grocery shop for the week or catch up on her shows (he still thought it was weird she was into the old guy on NCIS). It was so different now, knowing that it was so easy for her to get hurt or for him not to come home. No one would be there to help her out anymore if he died.

“Uh not that I don’t love random, out of the blue hugs, but are you okay honey?” Melissa asked gently, wrapping her arms around Scott. She petted through his hair like she used to do when he was a kid and that made Scott squeeze her tighter. “Mommy needs to breathe!”

“Sorry,” Scott finally let her go and she pulled his chin up to look at her, dark eyes narrowed shrewdly.

“Scott? What’s going on.”

“Noth-”

“Uh-uh. That is so not going to fly after-...this last year. Is someone else trying to hurt you?” He could hear her heart speed up and it was like he could feel her muscles clenching up. He felt badly, just wanting her to relax and enjoy herself.

“I- um-” The doorbell rang and he squirmed out of her grip. “I gotta go. I’m meeting up with some friends.”

Scott all but bolted for the door, wondering if he and Stiles would ever be able to stop lying to their parents. Or if they would get used to the feeling twisting up their guts. He greeted Isaac when he opened the door, watching him wave to his mom.

“Hi Mrs. McCall,” He was quiet again. Sometimes Isaac got into moods where he seemed to want to be anything but what he used to be like but then there were other times, like now, where he seemed relaxed.

“Hi sweetie. You boys are hanging out now? That’s nice. Scott, you be nice to Isaac and don’t drag him into any of your and Stiles’ weird schemes,” She waggled a finger at him when Isaac tried not to smirk.

“We gotta go-”

“That wasn’t a ‘yes Mom, I am listening to your awesome words of wisdom’,” Melissa arched a brow, ignoring the way Scott rolled his eyes. But he smacked a kiss to her cheek, sloppy and fond.

“Yes mom, I am listening to your awesome words of wisdom,” Scott repeated dutifully, eyes crinkling softly with his smile.

“Oh wait!” Melissa ignored the put out noise and moved over to her purse. She drew out a pendant in a hospital standard plastic baggie. “I was checking on Allison’s dad today and saw this. Tell her I’m sorry but we can’t let him wear it while he’s recovering and it’s such a pretty thing, I wouldn’t want it to come up missing.”

Scott knew what the pendant was before it was plopped in his hand but gave his mom a nod. “I’ll make sure she gets it, I promise. Going now!”He shoved Isaac out the door before she decided to quiz them any further over where they were headed off to.

“How does my mom know you?” They were halfway to Allison’s house when Scott thought to even ask the question. They really weren’t in as much of a hurry as he first thought so they weren’t even loping along. Beside, the draugr didn’t come out before the sun set and they had at least an hour before then.

“ER.”

“The ER? But-” And it clicked, snapping Scott’s jaw shut. “Oh.”

“Yeah. She was always nice. I like her, your mom,” Isaac’s voice was tight and his shoulders hunched over even more, leaving Scott to want to do something to make him feel better but at a loss as to what it could be. Instead he just bumped their shoulders together, pressing tight for a moment or two until Isaac eased out of his hunch.

“Uh, I know you’re kinda sticking with Derek and all,” Isaac smirked at the tone Scott unconsciously spoke of ‘Derek’ in. “But if you wanted to come by and eat with us or hang out, she wouldn’t care or anything.”

Isaac tilted his head and shot Scott a look he couldn’t quite figure out. It was open and almost like he wanted to reach out to.... hug maybe? Scott simply smiled at him, encouraging (hey hugs were great).

“Hey! What’s with the staring? We can have epic brofests after we kill the big bad! And by we, I mean all of us, you guys are late to the partay,” Stiles flopped across their shoulders and for some weird reason, Isaac shot him a dirty look.

“I doubt that anyone would want to go to a party with you,” he muttered, snapping his teeth at Stiles’ arm until he yanked it back hastily. Scott hadn’t even realized they were so close to the Argent house (which was probably not smart considering the number of hunters around).

“Ouch man, you’ve been hanging around Derek too much. Go be pissy and territorial inside then,” Stiles made a shooing gesture that flapped his hands on the ends of his wrists and made him look like a crazy chicken in Scott’s opinion. “Allison and Derek are already there, doing some hunter-to-werewolf negotiations or whatever,” Stiles went on, ignoring the distressed face Scott was making. “No one’s killed anyone. Although the one hunter chick is seriously intimidating in a Michonne sort of way. Also, kind of hot. ”

“I wonder about you sometimes,” Scott stated, glancing over to find that Stiles was referring to Taneva of all people. What was _with_ Stiles and people that could maim him?

“Soooooo,” Stiles drawled out the word so long that Scott had to pause, brows raised expectantly. “You kinda ran off without any reason earlier? After you had an argument with Derek again.”

Scott huffed through his nose. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Dude, it’s me. Share with Stiles. Sharing with Stiles is a good thing,” He was joking but there was a sharpness to his eyes that made Scott frown slightly. “You didn’t run off and make secret pacts with super villains again, did you? Cuz if so, we need to stage an intervention.”

“Can you not joke around right now?” Scott snapped.

Stiles was clearly a little startled but sobered quickly enough. “Okay, sure. What’s wrong?”

“I just... you don’t even seem to care that you let Derek put in danger. You’re in more danger than ever and it’s like you don’t even notice, too busy mouthing off,” He pointed out, waving a hand vaguely.

“I know I’m in danger. Actually I’d argue that I’m in a lot less danger than I could be, relatively speaking.”

“That’s what Derek said,” He grumbled, slumping against the side of the Argent house. They would have to go in shortly.

Stiles frowned thoughtfully before he reached out and squeezed at Scott’s shoulder. “Look I get it. I do. But there's nothing to worry about, okay? I'm just saying... Derek is trying,” Stiles glanced away, scratching at his elbow like it was the most fascinating thing in the world right then. “He's trying to help all of us not die. He doesn't... he didn't have to stay here and build a pack. He could've left when Boyd and Erica bolted. He could leave now- they did threaten to kill him.”

Scott couldn’t argue with that even if part of him wanted to. “I just... I don’t like that you keep winding up in situations with him. It’s weird and it makes you act weird.”

“Dude, I take offense to that,” It was clear he wasn’t serious, lips twitching as he threw an arm over Scott’s shoulders. “You are still my bro from another mo. You'll always be my favorite even if Isaac is getting an unfair amount of your attention lately, just thought I'd bring that up. Derek is not trying to ninja-steal your cool, charming, utterly vital best friend out from under you.”

“Shut up, you dork,” Scott finally cracked a smile, shoulders easing up. He hadn’t realized how much the idea of that bothered him until Stiles said it. “Yeah but still... it's like, whenever you two argue, or are in the same room, it’s like... I dunno, like all the air in the room is gone and it's just _weird_.”

“Dude, you're weird,” Stiles wrinkled up his nose in complain. “But I long ago decided to share my awesome with you in the vain hope someday you too can be like me. Besides, you get it, Derek is hard not to argue with. You argue with him all the time too!”

“Hey losers, c’mon, we’re going hunting!” Erica came up behind them and smacked both their asses soundly, cackling when they jumped. Stiles cracked up himself after a moment, throwing an arm around her shoulders as Scott chuckled.

“Why is it that I didn’t werewolf mate you?” Stiles asked, sighing into her hair.

“Because you couldn’t handle all my goodies. Even if you wanted to,” She retorted, grinning sharply and demonstrating with a grab at her boob.

“But I don’t even get a chance? Not one?”

“No.” Derek snatched Stiles back by the scruff of his neck out of nowhere (creeper) and Scott had to bite back the annoyed sound he made. Erica was laughing again and Stiles was protesting that he’d been set up. When Derek reeled Stiles in closer, Scott turned his head away finding his eyes meeting Allison’s own surprised ones.

“That’s.... new.” She murmured when he walked up to her, admiring her hands moving over the bow astride her legs.

“Yeah, it’s... definitely that.” He pulled a face.

“Are you okay with it?” She tilted her head and Scott had a confession at the tip of his tongue before he could think about it. But she held up her hand and shook her head. “Never mind, we can talk about that later. We have other things to focus on right now.”

Scott nodded but he couldn’t help but feel his heart jerk at the thought of ‘later’. Allison had said they would have a later, which had to mean something didn’t it? “It’s good right?” He found himself blurting out. “Working together to stop- I mean I know he was your grandpa but he was kind of a dick.”

“Yeah. He was.” Allison ducked her head for a second, glancing away uncomfortably. “Um...”

“I trust you.” He truly trusted her- with his life, with his heart, with anything she needed from him. He trusted in her ability to protect herself and help stop the draugr but he didn’t have a way to say that. Not in enough time.

Allison’s lips trembled, almost into a smile, her dark eyes staring at Scott in a way that he didn’t have a name for. “I...I trust you too.”

She turned to walk off but then stopped. Turning back around, she planted a quick, gentle kiss on his lips and then darted off to get into place. Whatever else happened that night, he knew that she still cared about him. That was enough.

**********

Allison was starting to hate the cemetery. Not that she expected many people to particularly enjoy it, but the very sight of it reminded her that she had almost no family left. She had visited this place far, far too often in the last two years. She moved quietly, the warm night air on the back of her neck as she headed for the plot of Argent graves, two far too recent for her stomach not to twist at the sight of them. And there would be another one if her Uncle Frank didn’t come for Ev’s body. What was left of it.

Pushing those morbid thoughts to the side, Allison wandered past the graves, keeping note of where they were in relation to herself. Gerard would come for her, she had no doubt about that. He couldn’t get to her father, thankfully, so she was the only family he could try to hurt.

She knew the wolves were out there and it surprised her how much of a comfort it was. How had she gone from wanting them all dead to trusting them to protect her while she played bait? But it was easy when she remembered that they were kids like her, people she’d sat across from in classes in school. Allison wasn’t going to forget that part again... or the fact she could stop them if she needed to.

The air shifted and there was a waft of decay under her nose that was heavy, clinging to her throat. She wanted to gag, eyes watering. This wasn’t the same as when Gerard appeared in the forest, which meant it wasn’t just a mindless beast, there was something still lurking in there that could change tactics just as easily as she could. She wasn’t sure if she felt anything when she notched her bow, coming in a circuit around a thick, gnarled tree-

That wasn’t a tree.

Allison flung herself to the side, let her arrow loose and called out in the same moment. She landed hard and rolled over her shoulder. Mickie and the hunters burst out from her right, spraying bullets and arrows, forcing the draugr to head back towards the graves.

“Come on,” she urged, ducked behind a tombstone. When the barrage stopped, she twisted around to shoot another arrow at the monster, watching it bat it out of the air and disappeared into the darkness. Heart pounding in her throat, Allison kept her bow at the ready and took stock of her surroundings.

“Hold off a sec, it’s gone to ground again,” she called out into her radio. There was no point in wasting ammo if they weren’t doing anything.

Nearby Stiles was fidgeting. “It’s not taking the bait. What if it doesn’t take the bait? The bait is the only thing we have- I mean, Allison is the only bait we have, it’s not like we can grab Mr. Argent out of the hospital and prop him up against the tombstones here, although don’t think I didn’t consider it, but I figured it’d be a shitty thing to do to an unconscious person, hunter or not,” he muttered, half to himself, half to the nearby werewolves, which were Derek and Boyd. Neither of whom were really interested in what he was saying.

The time for talking had passed. To be honest, it had passed the minute the stench of decay had hit the air, but Derek knew shutting Stiles up was going to take a visual of some kind. He ignored the continued stream of words and crouched down, watching the shadows start to form into the shape of an undead creature, claws extending when that same monstrosity slowly emerged from treeline and foliage.

“ _Shut up, Stiles_.” His words were animalistic and thick with change, eyes already red and teeth extending downward.

It was then - _finally then_ \- that Stiles turned around and seemed to get the clue. He didn’t give him a chance to say anything else as he shoved past him and leapt up on top of a towering gravestone followed by a lunge towards a tree branch that hung down low enough to be of use. Derek hoped everyone was backing up who needed to. “ _Stiles, get the fuck out of the way!_ ”

He was leaping off the branch just as Gerard’s form slammed out from the bushes, using his momentum to slow the creature down as much as he could. This mostly earned him a toss over Gerard’s shoulder, a toss he quickly countered by using the gravestone he was meant to crash into as a launching pad to jump onto Gerard’s back. Claws dug into the monster’s jaw but Derek couldn’t get a good enough grip before he was tossed aside again.

Nothing to land or launch from, Derek was left to roll to his feet instead of skidding across graves, realizing they were rumbling under him. “The hell?” The hand that shot upwards and grabbed hold of his ankle was definitely new and definitely unwelcome. “Everyone watch out!”

“Erica!” Scott shouted as she was yanked down into a grave suddenly, the earth churning under her feet and she let out a strangled snarl that was half fear and half anger. He couldn’t get over to her to help because he was being clawed at himself as well, ghoulish, green faces popping up out of the ground all around them. It was the entire graveyard if the shouts of surprise and horror from the hunters were any indication.

Isaac let out a noise as he shoved away from the creatures, his claws tearing through cloth and flesh alike but without a response from his attackers. They kept after him, surprisingly fast.

Derek’s boots weren’t gaining any traction on the wet and broken earth so he tossed them aside to better grip the ground and take off in a run towards a charging zombie. “Some info, Stiles!” he shouted over the moaning and snarling.

“I have watched way too many Romero movies in my life?” Stiles offered as he grabbed up a somewhat sturdy tree branch off the ground, absently wishing for the McCall baseball bat of Doom.

“Tell us something we don’t know!” Erica snarled, clawing her way out of the grave she’d been pulled into, looking murderous even without the addition of the glowing yellow eyes and the game face.

“Actually these are not those kind of zom-” Stiles urked as he backed himself up over a tombstone and nearly fell on his ass. He recovered, swatting away the reaching limbs with his tree branch. “They’re revenants which is why they are so goddamn fast- ha, take that bitch!” Stiles’ branch made a satisfying crack against a skull. “Shouldn’t be able to climb-”

Unfortunately for Stiles, getting atop one of the larger tombstones didn’t do anything but make it easier for the revenants to spot him and climb after him. The hunters were having similar problems, unable to throw off the revenants as easily as the werewolves. Taneva was working her hunting knife through one of the creature’s stomach, slicing upwards but another two were already trying to pull her down to the ground.

Derek was rolling his eyes mentally even as he lunged for the zombie at Stiles’s heels, tearing its head from its shoulders. “Try not to waste time going for the minions,” he ordered, realizing that no matter how annoying the revenants were, Gerard was the target they needed to take down.

Gerard’s monstrous form was still relentlessly pursuing Allison, Scott doing his best to help her out. Peter was hanging back, looking for an opportunity to lunge but otherwise wasn’t doing much to help tip the scales. Derek was sure this was going to get worse before it got better, taking the moment to grapple two of the revenants out of Scott’s way so he and Allison could continue their escape from Gerard. There was a brief moment when he felt that he’d be able to give them more of a head start to safety, but before he could get any closer there was a slim form slamming into him. It knocked Derek’s feet out from under him.

The smile that peered down at him was painfully familiar. Kate, with her twisted smile not distorted enough by the grave, craned her neck in a way that a neck really shouldn’t. Derek spent a few seconds more than he would’ve liked scrambling backwards to regain his footing. Kate was dead. Of course the one person who was dead that he didn’t want to see was faster than she was before the grave claimed her, tackling him back down again. 

There was only a slight whistling sound that warned them before the branch cracked across Kate’s head, sending her slamming into the ground twitching. Stiles was standing over her body, staring down at her with an expression that was difficult to figure out right at that moment. He turned to Derek and offered him his hand. “Go for the head, the heart or burn the fuck out of them but the draugr can still call up more, all of them here probably. We take it out, they’ll die. Uh, again. We need to stop it now.”

Pausing a second longer to look up at Derek, Stiles shook himself and turned to yell the same instructions at anyone nearby (even if werewolves didn’t need the help, fighting creepy undead things could really dampen someone’s powers of perception one would think). Mickie grabbed him and shoved him to the ground before firing her sawed off shotgun into the face of a revenant almost on top of them.

“Go!” she snarled, “We’ve got this!”

Allison was limping away from the main fray, determined despite the fact she was on her last two arrows.

“Fall back, get back,” she yelled at the hunters- the ones that weren’t lying around the graves in twisted, unmoving piles. She swallowed down bile and darted away towards the Argent tombstones again and the freshly marked on that said “Gerard Argent” on it.

Glancing out of the corner of her eyes, Allison felt her heart catch in her throat as Scott was thrown through the air, landing in an unmoving heap. She was torn between returning to his side and finishing what she had to do. She was grabbed, pulled down onto a knee, twisting it painfully as fingers twisted into her clothes, ripping it, ripping into her skin and she couldn’t get away--

Erica’s face was there, disheveled and bloodied, claws sunk through the back of the revenant’s skull and coming through its eye sockets. She was clearly hurt but still stronger than Allison was. “Get your skinny ass up and finish this, I am _not_ dying tonight,” she snapped, lunging and tearing out a revenant’s throat with her teeth. It apparently tasted as disgusting as it looked.

“Scott!” Allison surged up, frantic but when her eyes landed on him, there was a female werewolf she didn’t recognize back to back with him fighting off their attackers.

“Derek! Nessa and Dom are here,” Isaac called out from where he was helping Boyd back up out of an open grave with one hand. There were hunters behind them, trying to stave off the attacks but for every revenant they seemed to put down, another one got closer, tearing at them.

Derek growled, but the grip he held on a revenant’s skull served him quite well as he slammed it into a nearby tree. “Great,” he voiced, tossing the body aside before lunging back on his course for the main event. “Kill shit.” 

“Derek, shall we show them how it’s done?” Peter was there at his side, arching his brow and there was the silent offer to charge at Gerard with him. They were the two strongest and likeliest to hold the beast down.

“Let’s.” He wasted no time in leaping forward, his claws sinking into the decaying flesh of Gerard’s shoulder. Peter grabbed up the other side and used his weight to keep him in place, his face almost pleading (not really pleading, sassy insistence) that Derek hurry up, the beast’s shapeshifting making it difficult to keep it in place. Stiles yelled Derek’s name and the Alpha looked up just in time to catch the iron spike being tossed his way. The spike fell down hard against Gerard’s chest and Peter was already backing away in disgust. 

“That isn’t normal,” he cringed.

“Really?!?” Derek was having a hard enough time holding him down and was tossed for his valiant efforts. “What now, Stiles?!?!”

“You have to cut its head off!” Scott called out, limping towards them. Stiles was coming behind him with what looked like a makeshift torch, ready to do some damage himself. Boyd was running interference for them, using the bulk of his body to keep the increasingly frenzied revenants away so they could get at the thrashing Gerard.

Derek inadvertently offered up his best _bitch, really_ expression. “Someone gimme something sharp.”

“You have _claws_ don’t you?!” Stiles sniped, kicking out as he was grabbed. A bullet whizzed through the revenant’s skull from a nearby hunter’s gun and he gave a relieved little wave.

“Do you _see_ what is coming out of its... _never mind._ ” He dashed forward and leapt onto Gerard’s back. The claws dug in deep and he growled through the disgusting ooze that slipped and gummed up against his fingers as he tore the head from body. “Fuck you, by the way, Stiles.”

“Not when you’re covered in that,” Stiles panted as he urged the wolves back. “This is going to be gross.”

“What part hasn’t?” Scott retorted.

“Burn baby burn,” Stiles offered up, wincing as he set Gerard’s body on fire.

It brought out an immediate scream that sent everyone to their knees, and there were answering howls of displeasure from the dogs that could hear it. The body writhed, spasming as if it was _still_ attempting to cling to life. Blue sparks flickered into the air, more and more and there was the faint image of Gerard’s snarling, impotent face lingering in the air before the sparks exploded.

“Is it over?” Allison called out, looking very tired but maybe a little hopeful.

“Don’t jinx us!” Scott winced. They all paused, staring down at the (disgustingly smelling) heap of burning flesh. The revenants had started to drop off as soon as the draugr’s body caught on fire, their own flesh turning crispy. There were heaps of ash all over the cemetery, making it look even more like a battlefield than before.

Allison limped back towards her hunters, but she paused when their guns didn’t lower. “What are you doing?”

One of the hunters Allison recognized that had come with Ev, Vincent, stepped forward. “The draugr’s gone, but the job’s not done.” The other men around him were looking grim faced but willing to do what they had to do

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Stiles complained even as the werewolves around him shifted into ready stances, preparing for another fight. Even Nessa and Dom seemed willing to stick it out with them rather than abandon them to fight on their own. Stiles gave them a mental bonus point even if Dom was still a dickhead.

Derek rolled his shoulders and neck before he stepped forward. “There’s a truce here.” He shifted back to human form but his eyes still held a glow of crimson. “I realize most of you are from out of town, but you don’t really want this much bloodshed.”

“You gonna go against your leader?” Mickie asked from behind Allison’s shoulder, Taneva at her side. Her rifle was pointed at Vincent’s back, cocked and waiting. She flicked her eyes to Allison and gave a slight dip of her chin.

Allison took Scott’s hand, leading him away from Nessa’s side and turned to her hunters. “I’m saying this in front of everyone here and I’ll say it only once. The Hale pack is safe in Beacon Hills. They are free to come and go as they please without harassment or suspicion. As long as they honor our truce, to bite no one else and never attack a human, they are not to be hunted. Is that clear?” Allison’s voice was strong and carried well, despite her youth.

“Well done Hale,” Lycaon’s voice was amused as he slipped out from the trees, clapping his hands together slowly, mockingly maybe. “You’ve accomplished quite a bit tonight.”

“I did what had to be done but thanks for waiting until the last minute to assist.”

“That was not my decision,” Lycaon flicked his eyes over to his daughter but she didn’t seem cowed by his gaze. She and her brother stood shoulder to shoulder with each other, Erica on the other side of Dom. “Tomorrow is the full moon, enjoy your pack but the next night, I will see you or I will see the kanima,” Lycaon reminded Derek of his ultimatum, making Stiles shift closer to Derek, scowling sharply.

Derek reached out for Stiles’s fingers, carefully. “Relax.” He whispered the words, squeezing at those same fingers as if such a feeble gesture would keep him calm for what had to transpire. The look on Lycaon’s face told Derek something was expected. Pleasantries, affectionate undertones. They were both being watched and graded.

It was with closed eyes that he turned and pushed his forehead to Stiles. “It’ll be ok.” All the while he was smoothing his fingers along Stiles’ wrist, as if he could synchronize their pulses and will his to slow down. He knew Stiles wasn’t afraid - unfortunately - of the wolves... but he needed him to relax when he was being touched by his alleged mate.

“Dude, I am totally relaxed I could fall asleep right here,” Stiles retorted but he only hesitated for a moment before he was leaning into Derek’s shoulder, pressed close.

“....this would be a lot more romantic if you weren’t covered in zombie guts though.”


	13. In Which the Pack Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at the bottom (this is the chapter with the animal death).

Stiles wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for his deliciousness to be around six moon-crazy werewolves but Derek insisted that the full pack had to be there for this full moon, though Jackson was still missing. Maybe he wanted one last run with his pack before he faced off against Lycaon. Stiles didn’t know and he didn’t want to think about it. He crashed out on the bottom floor of the Hale house in what apparently was Derek’s room, playing Fruit Ninja on his phone until he fell asleep to the distant sounds of his friends’ howls.

Stiles woke up near dawn. He wasn’t sure why- he never woke up that early except when after he got on a really weird sleep cycle during his bouts of insomnia that came up now and again. But maybe it had to do with the utterly _awesome_ mattress Derek had. He wondered what creepy yard sale he’d bought it from- then made a noise as he considered the idea of Derek just dragging it from the dump or something because he clearly had no respect for creature comforts.

“If I get some horrible lice disease... ugh, I already feel itchy-” He scrubbed over his head as he headed outside, needing to piss. Slipping on his shoes but not bothering with the laces, Stiles stumbled off the front porch and towards the nearest tree he could find. He did his business, blinking blearily at the woodland sounds going on around him, idly wondering if he could pick out specific bird calls.

It took him far, far too long to notice the fucking huge Alpha werewolf that was staring at him, mouth drooling around a rabbit that was inexplicably still twitching and alive. He felt panic rocket through his entire body, breath strangling in his chest. His muscles were bunching up, ready to send him into a senseless run that he knew was going to get him chased down and mauled but his lizard brain was screaming _PREDATOR RUN RUN HIDE RUN_ at him overriding anything his conscious brain was telling him not to do.

The Alpha made a snorting noise, lowering his head and... glared at Stiles. A very familiar glare--

“Oh my fucking GOD _Derek_ , really?! You are really going above and beyond trying to scare me to death! I mean really, you are torturing me at this point, like a cat with a mouse!! I think I’d prefer you just snapping my neck at this point!” Alpha-Derek made a noise in his throat that had Stiles backing up and realizing that might not be a good invitation to make at that moment. “Okay, okay, I take it back! I really don’t want to be a chewtoy. I’m too soft and squishy, you wouldn’t get much replay value out of me, I swear!”

Even in the Alpha form, Derek was still able to convey the hints of annoyance at the speed of words that Stiles could pull off. He chose to ignore that and cross the ground outside the Hale house, dropping the rabbit in front of Stiles. He wasn’t quite ready to shift into a more normal form, waiting for this human beta to cement his place in the pack, so he backed off a few paces and crouched down, waiting for Stiles to make the correct choice.

“Okay, I see that,” He glanced down at the terrified rabbit trapped by Derek’s massive hand when it attempted to dart off. Paw. Hand-paw. “Good for you, you caught a rabbit. Do you want a Scooby Snack?”

Stiles paused, blinking. His brain did need a few extra minutes to get up to gear in the morning. “Oh my god, you’re... you’re fully Alpha! Like furry fully Alpha! Seriously?! _Dude_! How did you manage that? Why do you look different from Peter? You’re a lot less monster of the week and more Discovery Channel- again with the bunny?” Stiles peered down at the bundle of fur trapped by a massive paw.

Patience was still a trait he could hold in the bestial form, but lack of language (and lack of telepathic means of communication with one he hadn’t turned and had no wolf in him to speak of) sent Derek forward at bit, muzzled face gesturing down to the timid creature. He growled as he moved those intimidating wolf features back up to Stiles’ neck, hot breath hitting his neck, teeth nipping just a little bit. There was an order and a process for these things and Stiles was smart enough to figure it out.

“Ow, ow, no bitey! Don’t make me get the hose!” Stiles was going to die. He was straight up going to die but he couldn’t stop himself. If he didn’t say these absurd things he’d just curl up in a ball. “What do you want?” He demanded, frustrated.

It was probably the first time an alpha form werewolf had grunted and rolled his eyes. _Idiot._ Derek gestured once again to the rabbit and then backed away once more to let Stiles make the decision. He wouldn’t force it.

“You want me to-” And then it dawned on Stiles. Just like he read, like Derek had told Scott so long ago. To cement their place in a pack, betas had to kill with their Alphas. Stiles winced and choked back a complaint, a protest, anything he wanted to say. After all he said that he was going to be part of the pack and he meant it. Stiles blinked at himself.

He really had meant it, hadn’t he? He wasn’t sure when it became so important to him... maybe it was because after chasing around Derek and his betas for the better part of a year he felt kinda like they belonged to him. He felt like they needed someone to remind them when they were dumb and... well, it felt like he might actually belong somewhere if he did this. He wouldn’t be just the tagalong, a loser.

Scrubbing his hands on his boxers, he let out a breath. “Okay.” Turning, he moved to head back inside when Derek blocked his way, a growl coming out. “Seriously? Chill out Bossypaws. I’m doing this but I am not getting blood on my mouth trying to bite its head off, okay? I’m getting a knife, jeez.”

Derek stared at him a second longer before he let Stiles scoot past him and back into the house. He grabbed up the Swiss Army knife he’d taken to carrying after Gerard attacked him. He might not have teeth or claws but he could still draw blood the next time someone came for him.

He came back outside and looked down at the rabbit. Swallowing back bile, he adjusted his grip on the knife in his hand, tensing and untensing. As quickly as he could, he sliced the blade across its throat. He didn’t check to make sure that he’d killed it, he didn’t really want to know. “Alright, is that enough cuz I’m really grossed out now. I know it’s the natural order, the circle of life, hakuna matata and all that but I’m not eating that so you go ahead- oh god!”

Stiles turned away as Derek snapped up the rabbit really quickly, humming under his breath until he was certain he was done with it all. “So, I’m pack now, wooo. That’s awesome, although sometimes I wonder about your stand- hey!”

 _‘Shut up, Stiles.’_ Not only had he killed with the Alpha but he offered the food up to him. Derek knocked Stiles over back onto the ground and started sniffing a trail up his body, lingering around the curve of his neck. The noise that reverberated from his throat wasn’t so much a growl as it was something closer to a purr. It was definitely a pleased vibe he was giving off... but Stiles didn’t seem to pick up on that at all. In fact, he looked mildly embarrassed and Derek tilted his head at the rising color in Stiles’ cheeks.

Okay, giant werewolf man-thing on top of him. Not moving because... he had no idea. Maybe because Stiles was comfortable? And making low noises that weren’t scary. “Oh man you’re... you’re happy!” Stiles blinked, gaping at Derek, mouth dropped open. Okay being happy wasn’t weird in of itself but this was Derek. Derek barely could deal with the ball of rage and pain that was residing in his chest at all times to be functional much less actively happy. And Stiles wasn’t judging- he understood how that was, probably better than a lot of people and he didn’t even lose as much as Derek had.

But the idea that something as simple as killing a rabbit and giving it to Derek to make him happy was sort of... scary and embarrassing. Like Stiles actually had an effect on him.

It was embarrassing enough when it was just the two of them but then it was worse when the rest of the betas finally trudged up to the house, leaves sticking to their hair, looking sleepy but sated. Erica grinned viciously when she spotted Derek sprawled over top of Stiles like a giant stuffed dog. “Oh guess who’s the _favorite_!” She singsonged.

“Why is Stiles the favorite?” Isaac complained, like a jealous little brother. Scott bumped shoulders with him to get his attention away from Stiles’ throat but was looking a little perplexed by the scene too.

“Why indeed,” Peter mused in a sly voice that had Stiles blushing down to his chest.

“No, no, no, god you guys-” He protested, waving his hands futilely. He didn’t bother trying to shove off Derek- he wasn’t going anywhere. “Seriously, he brought me a rabbit and I y’know-”

“What’s going on?” Boyd of course trudged up at that point and Stiles covered his face with his hands.

“Stiles got _special_ takeout,” Erica was officially on his shit list. Forever. 

Derek slowly shifted back to his human form, the tone shifting in his voice as he spoke. “He had to join the hunt,” he said plainly, eyes still red when he addressed the rest of them, “but I think everyone knows how well he handles blood.”

His eyes looked over to the _favorite_ \- as decreed by his pack, not necessarily by him - and grinned. “Good job.” His tone was anything but decent.

He ruffled the fluff of short hair atop Stiles’ head before he rose to his feet... to find clothes. Alpha form transformations were completely unkind to human material. “You jealous I don’t get any of you takeout?”

Stiles wanted to make a noise. Really. Any noise. His mouth was open, that meant that noises should be coming out, right? Nothing did. All he could do was watch Derek saunter into the house nonchalantly as anything, not paying a lick of attention to the fact that Erica was also very much appreciative of the beauty in such simple movements.

“Coffee!” Stiles’ voice was strangled and hand to god, he swore he heard a chuckle from inside the house. “We need coffee. And food. I’ll go get some! By myself,” he added, glaring at the assembled werewolves. “Since I don’t need anyone to help me do something so simple and all.”

Derek might’ve gotten over on him once but that was it. Stilinskis were resilient and crafty. Stilinskis should have been smarter though because once he offered to get food there was an argument over where he would go to get said food. Eventually he pointed out that Millie’s was the only place open this early and really, her food was orgasmic so shut up.

After that there came the orders and he was again made stupefied by the sheer amount of food werewolves could pack away. “Wait, didn’t you guys just chase down dinner last night?!” he gaped at the list he’d scribbled down.

“Fast metabolism, like you said.” Derek reemerged, pulling a v neck shirt over his head. “I’ll drive if you can use your encyclopedia brain to keep track of their orders.”

“Don’t forget my hash browns,” Erica ordered, grinning happily from where the top half of her was sprawled over Isaac’s lap and her legs tossed over Boyd’s.

He was sitting shoulder to shoulder with Scott who smiled sleepily. “Get extra syrup. Oh! See if Millie has blackberry!”

“I want blackberry too,” Isaac piped up.

“Fine, fine, I got this, no more orders!” Stiles jabbed a finger at them- only to have Peter grasp his hand, engulfing it with his own. Stiles jerked as he smiled.

“You’ll need cash to pay, won’t you?” He pointed out, eyes unwavering from Stiles’ face.

Derek did a good job of putting himself between Peter and Stiles and stared several times from where their hands were connected back to Peter’s face. “Are you offering money?”

“What else would I be offering?”

“Physical contact isn’t for sale.”

Peter snorted. “Pity.”

“Okay! Now that we’re done with the awkward pack moments, we’re leaving,” Stiles slipped his hand away but wasn’t so dumb not to let Peter pay for the mob. He slipped into the Jeep, blinking as he adjusted his mirrors- catching Isaac leaning into the back of Scott’s neck and sniffing him while he was distracted. “I don’t know if I’ll ever figure out all this stuff.”

“As long as you remember the food order, you’re good.” Derek wasn’t there and then he was, all in the passenger’s seat. “I told you I’d drive, but you’re going to need help regardless.”

“It always comes back to food doesn’t it?” He snorted, smiling a little. Peering up at Derek, he considered for a second before he hopped out. “Be careful with my baby. She may not be as pretty as yours but she’s a good one. No joyriding.” He brushed past Derek (it might’ve been nice for him to move a little, but apparently they were showing off as “mates” even at god-awful o’clock in the morning) and slipped around to the other side of his car. It was a little weird being in the passenger’s seat.

“I still don’t have a food preference, just preferences in other regards,” he reminded him as he slid over to the driver’s side. “And I know, the clutch gets stuck in second gear.” 

Stiles blinked, clearly still surprised that Derek listened to him. Ever. Swallowing a little, he played with the frayed end of his shirt. “That’s okay. I guess. I mean... who said you had to figure out everything right away? Maybe... maybe you go wild for strawberries. They’re like the only thing you want to eat and you think you’ll eat them forever and then... then you find out you want something... a little less sweet.” Sweet baby Jesus, what the hell was coming out of his mouth.

“It’s just like mushrooms,” Derek threw out there as he moved the car towards the road, being careful with the gear shifting. “You just have to try things to figure out if you like them. I’m pretty sure there’s lots of things I’d enjoy running my tongue over.”

And then he grinned.

Stiles almost choked on his tongue before he flicked his finger against the werewolf’s ear. “What the hell? Seriously?! You are not porn-talking me to when there are no Alphas nearby or can hear us in the car,” he exploded, torn between being hysterical and being pissed off. “I’m not dumb Derek! Okay, yeah, I’m totally a walking hormone and of course you can smell it! That doesn’t mean you get to manipulate me! Jerk!”

“I have favorite tastes, Stiles. Not a specific food, but a specific taste and the way it draws out the other senses.” He kept his eyes on the road but he definitely let his voice drop a bit as he continued. “Why the hell would I waste my time using sex to get something I want? That’s a human type of manipulation. Even Peter isn’t that screwed up in the head.”

“Ha,” Stiles had thoughts about exactly how screwed up Peter was, thanks. He shifted in his seat, silently for once as he let Derek’s words roll around his head. He was still insecure, still wondering why the hell Derek would even... it was too much. This pretending to be mates thing was confusing and he wanted to run away from it all. Why didn’t Derek? Didn’t it have to be at least as uncomfortable for him? He certainly wasn’t acting like it.

He was acting as if he was accepting Stiles. To have Derek curl up against him in his Alpha form... Stiles knew that was a trusting act from a person who did not trust hardly anyone. And he wasn’t sure when that mattered a lot to him.

“Intimacy in _any_ context is a form of physical communication, Stiles. Plain and simple. I don’t need to use sexual innuendo to... manipulate you into doing anything. I thought we were working past those sorts of trust issues.” Then Derek stopped. And laughed. “Wow, we sound like an old married couple.”

“So... it’s not me-” He blinked and then laughed, covering his face. “If they start calling me Pack Mommy I am feeding you mountain ash biscuits I swear. And promoting Scott to head Alpha.”

“... Why would they call you the Pack Mother?” The whole concept was lost even though he tried to follow.

“... Because you’re daddy?” He shot Derek a look. “You do know Scott fights you so hard because he doesn’t want another dad, right?”

“They’d just call you the mate and give you the same respect they give me. Do they usually call the non-alpha in a male couple the mother? Why the hell do that?” He suddenly felt like Stiles with a sudden need to talk about _all the things_ for no good reason. “And I don’t want to be Scott’s father. I just have to maintain control so that things don’t get out of control for all of us.” Scott’s trust issues made sense, but they were definitely something that was going to take more than just another fatefully extended hand to fix.

“....” This was officially a weird conversation and surprisingly it was not Stiles’ fault. “Dude, I don’t know! There wasn’t really a chapter outlining that kind of hierarchy! Mostly it had to do with biting and um well stuff you definitely already know about - oh look, Millie’s is right there!” He declared desperately, cheeks on fire.

“You... ” Derek chose his words carefully as he parked the jeep and got out. “... You have a bad habit of talking a lot and always _not_ talking when you can’t talk about the topic. We’re going to work on that.”

“Only if you do the same,” he shot back at Derek, not giving up an inch. Pot meet kettle bitch.

He stopped for a moment and looked at Stiles. Since when was he suddenly offering up trust to anyone? “Alright,” he agreed and just as easily turned and walked into the restaurant.

“Wait, really? Derek, really? Can I get that in writing? In triplicate?” He trailed after him through the almost empty parking lot.

Derek rolled his eyes and turned around... and abruptly had a Stiles slam into his chest who he caught before he could fall backwards. “You don’t need it in writing,” he said. “I said I’ll do it, and I mean it.”

“... yeah, okay,” Stiles was completely breathless, mouth parted a little, throat bobbing as he swallowed. He should stand up straight right about now. Aaaany minute. Definitely standing upright. On his own. Without assistance.

His finger touched the tip of Stiles’ jaw and shut his mouth with a grin. “I hope you remember all that crap everyone wanted, because I don’t.”

Stiles blushed darkly and he knew that he was definitely sending out a huge bouquet of smells that were going to make him die of embarrassment. But after breakfast. “Yeah, I do,” he waved over the waitress and proceeded to ramble through the entire order without missing a beat. 

Glancing at Derek, he noticed that he was eyeing something in a display case to his left. “What’s over there?” He peered around a leather clad shoulder.

“Muffins,” he said before he turned his head and found his mouth in the vicinity of Stiles’. “I might be slightly partial to muffins. Maybe.”

Considering that he was staring at them like he wanted to pounce, Stiles thought that would be a pretty safe bet. “Alright muffin man. We’ll take the chocolate muffin and the peach danish,” he added to their order, gleefully handing over Peter’s money and giving her a large tip because why the hell not?

Derek looked at the small bag and appeared to ponder over its contents. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a danish,” he said, thoughtfully.

“Derek!” He whined, tempted to stomp his feet. The old waitress chuckled at them, handing over two large bags other than the one with their baked goods. She winked at Stiles, making him scratch his head and stare at the ceiling long enough he almost missed getting his change.

Derek traded off the bag to Stiles and took the larger bags, leading the walk back to the jeep. “Are you seriously going to tantrum over a danish?” He pretty much held the door open as Stiles guarded over his bag and stepped outside.

“I’m going to be skin and bones if you keep eating all my food,” he grumbled but once he got settled in the Jeep, Stiles pulled out the danish. He took it and peeled off a piece of it, the gooey sugar and peach preserves running already.

“I didn’t say I wanted to eat your danish,” he insisted, laughing as he loaded the food onto Stiles’ lap to keep it from rolling around the back as he had nothing to secure it with. “I just said I hadn’t tried one before. Simple statement, Stiles.” He waited until he’d gotten back in the Jeep to say anything further and noticed the mess on Stiles’ hand.

“Well? Try it already, it’s getting all over me,” He thrust the piece at Derek, expecting him to take it.

“Alright,” he said, taking Stiles by the wrist before he ran his tongue along the preserves that were about to run down Stiles’ knuckle. “Not too bad,” he decreed before he moved Stiles’ hand around just enough to take the piece from his fingers with his teeth.

Stiles managed to not whimper out loud but he was very grateful that the heat of the bagged food was keeping his dick from getting too terribly excited. Because that? Porn. Flat out porn that was likely to make a starring appearance in his nighttime fantasies. Derek Hale, food eater. Watch his amazing tongue in action folks!

Then Derek reached into the bag and pulled out his muffin, taking a bite first... and then pulled off a piece of it. “Here.”

Giving a little strangled noise, Stiles didn’t want to chance making an idiot of himself so he took the piece from Derek’s waiting fingers and popped it into his mouth. He moaned appreciatively. “MMmm, yeah that’s just... We should’ve gotten two of ‘em,” he mused, licking crumbs from the corner of his lips.

Derek finished the muffin and left a small piece and offered it over. There was a definite desire to see a tongue licking crumbs again. “We’ll have to remember that next time,” he said with that grin of his firmly in place.

Stiles laughed, greedily plucking up the piece of muffin offered, happy. Popping it in his mouth, he sucked the bits stuck to his thumb off and made a noise. “Mmm, like a regular thing after the full moon? That’d be... kinda nice.”

“Are you going to keep making those noises or am I driving us back home?”

Stiles gave him a look. “I’m not stopping you from anything. But we probably should get going before they come looking for us. And the food. Mostly the food.”

Derek’s hand hovered on the key he’d long since put in the ignition... and then he turned, leaning into what quickly turned into a gaping set of lips. “Are you sure you’re choosing food over all other things?”

The scent of Stiles’ emotions were seriously driving Derek to be a bit more predatory than he should have. He was totally blaming the scent, yes he was. The bottom line was that any physical communication was going to be in Stiles’ side of the court. Bottom line, end of discussion, as far as Derek was concerned... but he was definitely hoping for an answer he liked.

“I... ” Stiles swallowed hard, tongue flicking out to wet his lips and wow, he could actually see Derek’s pupils get larger. There was no faking that, no matter whether or not Alphas were around. His heart was slamming in his chest and Stiles was leaning in, drawn like a magnet. He had an idle thought to wonder if Derek would taste like danish or chocolate muffin.

Derek wasn’t exactly getting a definitive answer, but he was tired of the millimeter gap between their mouths... so he closed it. He closed it and was as behaved as possible, chaste yet definitely still wanting more. And then there were those noises, preludes to times that were hopefully to come that urged even more. “You have got to stop with the noises,” he said when he pulled back a bit. “That is going to drive me crazy.”

Stiles whimpered, opening his eyes where they’d drifted shut. “Not my fault. You started it,” he complained breathlessly. But then he was leaning up, eager and inexperienced, to kiss back. He was shyly nibbling on Derek’s bottom lip, contemplating if he could get in trouble for slipping in some tongue when there was a heavy knock at the window and he bit down hard on his lip instead. Whoops.

“Sir?” Stiles whipped around, bright red and clutching at his chest. The dishwasher waved another bag at him. “You forgot your napkins and silverware,” he called out through the window.

Derek’s knuckles went a bit white as he wrapped his hand tightly around the steering wheel before he could manage rolling down the window without breaking the jeep. “Thanks,” he said... and even offered some semblance of a smile, almost defeatedly putting the bag in Stiles’ lap.

Stiles gave a tight smile of his own and sat there, trying not to melt into the floorboards out of humiliation. He had to calm down anyways otherwise the pack was definitely going to know what was up- although did they expect it now? This mating-so-Stiles-doesn’t-die thing was confusing as hell.

“Stop that.” Derek rolled up the window and started the Jeep. “There’s no need for whatever embarrassment that is radiating off you like the Black Plague over there.”

“Shut up and let me sulk,” He muttered.

Derek ran his tongue against his lip, still feeling the teeth that had bit down on it in surprise only moments before. “No.”

***********

“I always was curious about bondage but this was not what I had in mind,” Danny murmured dryly, glancing up at the elaborate chains hooked through the ceiling and down to where they kept both himself and Jackson held in place. Peter had stopped by again and Danny was rapidly growing weary of his veiled comments and better than you manner. It was galling that Peter had driven Danny’s car out of town and tapped out a quick message on his own phone to his parents that he and Jackson had decided to run down to the coast for an impromptu vacation. The man- uh, werewolf- seemed well versed in covering his tracks, that much was obvious.

“Jackson?” Danny ventured when his comment didn’t even illicit an eye roll from his friend.

“We’re going to die here,” He managed in a quiet voice that frankly, scared Danny down to the marrow of his bones.

“Don’t say that, we can-”

“No. We can’t. You don’t know about this, you’ve been away from all this shit and it’s my fault that you’re here,” Jackson refused to meet Danny’s eyes, shoulders slumped as best he was able from where he was hanging by the chains.

“Oh no, don’t give me that self pity crap right now,” Danny retorted, narrowing his eyes and tugging on the chains until Jackson made an irritated noise. “The only person to blame right now is the psycho who kidnapped us. That’s it. So stop feeling sorry for yourself and help me figure out a way to get out of here.”

Jackson grumbled but peered up at the chains he was hanging from. Any time Danny pulled on them to move, they tugged Jackson who was hanging off the group by his wrists. “If I could get some slack, I could probably pull these out of the ceiling and tear them off,” he pointed out.

“Huh. Where were you the last time I had a flat tire?” Danny arched his brow but was pondering the set up as well. “I could try to climb it. Get myself close to the loop up there, it should give you the length of chain you need to pull it out.”

“Dude, no way! As soon as I yank it, you’ll fall!”

“Then you better be as fast as you keep telling me you are,” Danny smirked. Ignoring the weirdly animal growl from his best friend, he jumped up as high as he could on the chain. Apparently Peter either was sadistic enough to let Danny keep his feet on the ground and agonize over hurting Jackson, or he simply didn’t think that they would be able to do this.

Peter obviously did not know Danny at all- if it needed to be done, Danny would definitely hurt Jackson. Still, he did feel badly for the pained noises coming from Jackson as he climbed towards the ceiling. He told himself that it would be over soon, sweat beading on his brows again as he slowly inched higher and higher.

As soon as he was close enough, Danny threw himself towards the beam the chain was wrapped around. For a second, he was sure he was going to miss but he managed to slap one hand and hold on for dear life as Jackson’s section of the chain suddenly had more slack, sending him to the ground in a heap. 

“Not that I’m in a hurry here, but could you get on with it?” Danny called out, proud that his voice was still mostly even despite the fact he was hanging on by three fingers now.

Jackson climbed to his feet and lifted his head and the Hawaiian boy was still not quite used to the transformation- the snarling teeth, the power in his arms as his friend literally ripped the support beam from the roof. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he yelped as he went weightless, tensing up for a horrible impact with the ground.

Instead he was plowed into harder than he’d ever been on the lacrosse field but grateful for it being with Jackson’s sweaty bulk rather than anything worse. He wanted to lay there for a second, basking in their idiocy but Jackson was frantically pulling him over onto his back and calling his name. Danny let out a huff of laughter, smiling fondly.

“I knew you could do it,” he told him and pulled Jackson down into a kiss that his brain hadn’t been consulted with. Yanking himself back, Danny was already ready to apologize (or smack Jackson if he said anything about ‘types’). “Jackson-”

Jackson wasn’t listening to him at all, tensed up. His eyes had gone wild, pupils weirdly slit. “Danny, go, run, now!”


	14. In Which Something is Gained and Something is Lost

They spent the whole day there at the Hale house, lazing after breakfast. The wolves chased each other through the nearby woods, tackling and otherwise doing far too many strenuous activities as far as Stiles’ poor, weary and sore body was concerned. He’d figured they’d be even more tired after the full moon, but after a short nap in the afternoon, Derek dragged off Boyd and Peter to see if they’d have any more luck tracking down Jackson.

Part of Stiles wanted them to find the dipshit. At this point Stiles was wondering if Jackson was hiding out so he wouldn’t be turned into Alpha chow and had left the rest of them high and dry. It suited Jackson, really but Stiles realized that was his bitterness and frustration at the situation talking. Jackson hadn’t known what the Alphas wanted. He could be dead.

He didn’t want to think about that because that meant there weren’t any choices for Derek. He was struck by the anger flared up brightly in his chest. Derek was a dickhead but he was _their_ dickhead and dammit, he’d done the best he could. Who the fuck was this Lycaon to decide otherwise just because Derek hadn’t had a “How to be a Proper Alpha in 10 Easy Steps” manual around? Derek was better than Peter had been and even if he didn’t agree with how he’d done it, Isaac, Erica and Boyd all seemed happier than before.

Letting out a noise of frustration, Stiles rubbed his hands over his head and stared unseeingly out from the porch. Derek was going to give himself up. Stiles knew it. He’d see the noble sacrifice and Derek _looooved_ the shit out of sacrificing himself.

“Ass,” he muttered aloud, stomach twisting over itself even worse.

“Are you calling someone an ass or thinking about Derek’s ass? Not that I blame you,” Erica flopped down next to him, shoving hard at Stiles’ shoulder.

“I just- he’s just so- and when he- I want to- GAAAAAAH!” he settled on, wringing his hands futilely in the air in front of him.

She laughed, mean but fond. “Hey, you picked him, no take backs now. Bet you wish you would’ve played my Batman when you had the chance now,” she grinned.

“I’ve been thinking about basically all my life choices since forever,” he grumbled, head tilting up to catch the late afternoon sun. When did Derek say they were coming back? Oh wait. He _didn’t._

“This requires distractions,” Erica declared, shifting her weight. Stiles only had the hair prickling on the back of his neck as a warning before she pounced.

**********

It was early evening when Derek and Boyd, sans Peter ended up back at the Hale house, without Jackson in tow but a large deer instead. There was a suggestion of a bonfire to cook it, and an ensuing argument of the best way to accomplish that.

Eventually they did get it set up, without any burns (not even on Stiles) and everyone enjoyed chomping down on Bambi’s mom without a flicker of regret Stiles noticed. They settled in to watch the stars and hang out. It was nice. It almost made up for the fact they had killed a monster not a day ago and Derek was supposed to meet up with the Alpha pack the next day.

Stiles frowned, letting his attention be taken by Isaac and Scott laughing and teasing each other from across the yard. It was good, of course. Isaac needed to be less crazy but... that was his best friend. It was really difficult to share Scott, to deal with the fact that their little two man show against the world was expanding.

In some ways it was great. He had people that had his back now. Erica loved to rile him up and mock him but she was also the first of them to cuddle him (albeit in a strangling sort of way). Boyd was badass of course and a secret nerd as they found out over dinner, double bonus. And Isaac... was... fine. If clingy. And maybe he was purposefully not thinking about Derek because that way lay a whole mess of emotions that Stiles wasn’t sure he could deal with. He wanted...

“I can hear your existential angst from all the way over here.” Derek liked to do that, be somewhere without being seen, and then pick a good time to make his presence known. In this instance, he called over to Stiles from the wooden railing of the porch that hadn’t decided to rot and fall off yet and hadn’t quite lifted his eyes from the weeds he’d been fiddling with. “You just... are you gonna sit there and pout about them all day?”

Stiles grumbled at Derek, not actually jumping when he came into his line of sight from nowhere. “I’m not used to sharing him I guess. I mean, I’ve always known that Scott’s just one of those people that once you get to know him, you love him. But not everyone else did so... ” He wasn’t sure if he was making sense or not.

Derek dropped the weeds and gestured to Stiles, urging him over.

He wouldn’t admit it, but Stiles capitulated kinda easy. Actually he was doing that a lot more now and he wasn’t sure if it started when he and Derek went to grab breakfast... or if it was when he accidentally labeled himself his mate. Whenever it was, Stiles sighed heavily as he bumped shoulders with Derek, yawning a little. “MMmmph. Aren’t you going to be mysterious and wise now?”

“No need,” he said with a hesitant but small smile. “You have it figured out already. Pack means sharing, it sucks, you’re gonna deal with it just fine. You’ve got options no one else has, anyway. Eventually it’ll be more than fine.” At least he hoped that was going to be the case.

His brow puckered together briefly but he nodded. “I like seeing you like this,” Stiles admitted, almost mumbling it into his shoulder. Derek was happy having a pack. Sure, they were a bunch of selfish, idiotic teenagers but it was starting to work. “Daddy Alpha is so proud of his babies,” he mocked, grinning wickedly.

“Shut up, Stiles.” He looked over at his shoulder and then looked back out at Scott and Isaac while he spoke. “Just shut up and enjoy relaxing time.”

“Never. Never as long as I live,” he declared.

“You seriously don’t know how to relax, do you? We’re going to have to put you on an exercise regiment to wear you out.” That was definitely a thought he had definite ideas about.

“Oh no, you are not playing fetch with me as the stick!” Stiles declared, poking him sharply in his ribs with his elbow. He frowned a little when Isaac leaned into Scott and sniffed at the back of his ear, like he was... scenting him.

And of course those definite ideas all definitely facepalmed when Stiles added his two cents. “You have a problem with subtle innuendo.”

“Huh?” He glanced back at Derek and frowned. “Do you think that’s a little... well I don’t want to say weird but... is something going on there?” He jerked his chin at the other pair.

“And then you use your brain and put two and two together.” Derek slowly let his head rest against Stiles’ for a moment while he let that news sink in. “Or, in plain English, _bingo_ , Stiles. You got it.”

Stiles shifted back against Derek’s body automatically, letting his weight rest more heavily on him. It was comfortable when it should have felt confining or hot. He made a face but resisted shaking his head and upsetting Derek’s balance. “I think I feel sorry for him. That’s never going to happen,” he mused. Boy did he understand that feeling.

“Really.” He picked up his head but allowed Stiles to rest the remainder of his weight. Hell, he could’ve sprawled on him and Derek wouldn’t have moved him. “No chance, huh?”

Stiles took the invitation without conscious thought, shifting his hips into the curve Derek made for them, letting his arm casually rest on the wooden beam in front of them. “One word- Allison.” He replied, shrugging. “You haven’t heard all of Scott’s thoughts on her. I’m serious- you think he’s bad now? Imagine what it was like when it was good. Also there was way too much information about sex. I was scarred. Allison’s a giggler. A _giggler_ Derek.”

“Life has a way of making you realize when something’s no good for you,” he sighed, “and then life gives you something that’s better. Healthier. No giggling during sex for you, so noted.”

Stiles swallowed, not letting himself wonder if Derek was talking about Scott or... maybe a little closer to home. He just let his fingers rest on top of his forearm, squeezing it gently. “I could be down with a little goofing off. I mean, like Alan Rickman in Dogma says- wait, have you seen Dogma? No, don’t tell me, I’ll make you watch all Kevin Smith’s movies anyways- sex is hilarious. Or at least I’m hoping it is so it’ll improve my- “ he yawned wider, jaw cracking. “My chances of having it ever. Mmmm.”

“Sex is whatever you want it to be,” he said, easing them both up to their feet. “It’s whatever you need it to be... and right now you need sleep because seriously. All you’re doing is yawning. Did you sit out here all day watching them with a scowl on your face?”

Stiles let Derek pull him up, blinking at him with large, sleepy eyes. Soften by good will and trust. “Nope. I brooded. I sneered. I probably even made a few pensively tragic expressions too. Also Erica kidnapped me and forced me to have a mani-pedi,” he held up his hands as if to demonstrate the torture. They were remarkably clean and neat looking for a teenaged boy. Stiles yawned hard enough to crack his jaw. “But I should sleep. I have to head out and meet Deaton to give back his books now we don’t need them,” he admitted, turning to head inside.

“You make a lousy villain. You don’t even rank up there for starring villain role in an after school special.” Derek led him through the house - and he really needed to do something construction related with it if they were going to make it a home.

“Shut your mouth you bad imitation of James Dean! I would make an awesome villain! I would have lasers! And a shark tank! And I would not monologue at the sexy but rugged hero!” Oh who was Stiles kidding? Of course he would. Letting Derek guide him further into the house, it didn’t even register to him that Derek wasn’t dragging him into what they set up as the communal crashpad area the night before but rather his bedroom.

“Uh huh.” Derek pulled them both towards the mattress, curling up behind him before he put a finger against his lips. “Shut up, Stiles.”

“Death traps. You should built trap doors in here after you get it fixed up. That’d be pretty sweet,” he mumbled, nearly swaying on his feet.

“Shut up, Stiles.” That time, it almost got sang.

“Mmmph,” he complained, sitting up to pull off his top shirt and rubbing a hand over his head, oblivious to his audience.

“I’m just looking out for you here.” Derek helped with the material of the last shirt, leaving him in an undershirt, before he dragged the blanket up further on the mattress. “It’s all about you.”

“You should let someone look out for you,” Stiles murmured, nuzzling into the bed as Derek grabbed a blanket to add to the pile Stiles was crashed out on.

“I _do_ ,” he said with a smile and pulled him to his chest. “Now shut up, Stiles.”

He squawked- very not manly or sexy. What was sexy was Derek immediately grabbing him and deciding that Stiles made an awesome teddy bear to hold. “Uh... you’re sleeping too?” he asked, a bit more awake thanks to the blast heat from Derek’s body.

“I do what I want, Stiles,” was the only answer he was going to give. “Are you going to shut up now?”

He snorted. “Okay Loki.” He smirked a little and laughed. “I can’t believe you sometimes. You act like you’ve never seen a computer before in your life and then you make pop culture references. Stop being so-”

Derek shook his head and proceeded to press his mouth against Stiles because someone needed to shut up. He pressed his lips against those that were slightly parted... and then he let his tongue explore - obviously in an effort to keep him too busy to speak. His hand moved against Stiles’ neck but it wasn’t a hard grip. It was gentle and assuring... and definitely trying to lull the idiot to sleep with the sweeping fingers against a jaw. “Shut up and go to sleep, Stiles.”

“Mmm later. More of that,” Stiles declared recklessly. Grabbing Derek by his hair, he pushed down his nerves and pressed their lips together again. A little less sweetly, a little more passionately. They weren’t sweet- him and Derek. They fought, got on each other’s nerves but they made each other laugh and he wasn’t going to let Derek go off to face the Alpha pack without doing this just once. For real. Not with witnesses around or for any other reason than because he wanted to.

 _Goddamn_ that wasn’t exactly what Derek was expecting would happen but he wasn’t going to complain. He was, however, going to reel in his wolf instincts because _it was seriously not time to rip off Stiles’ clothes and mark him up and down._

“You’re killing me,” he said in between breaths and tongues and... where the hell did Stiles learn how to do that? Just really, where? “Stiles, you are too ti-mmmpfff - no, really you-mmmmm... fuck it.” He tugged off his leather jacket and let it fall to the floor, his mouth moving along the exposed neck he’d been constantly thinking of. Constantly. That wasn’t even an exaggeration. Neither was the fact that he’d been thinking about biting down on it, not enough to break skin but definitely enough to mark. His hand he let smooth down... down... not all the way down but down enough that there were more of those noises.

Stiles was going to drive him crazy. Definitely crazy.

Stiles’ grin clearly said _‘I win!’_ and he wasn’t really surprised that got him bit. He was a little surprised that it automatically made his hips thrust up in response. He gasped, tremulous and swallowed harder around other noises that were tumbling out of his mouth. Some of them were even close to being words, soft and pleading in tone. Grasping at Derek’s shoulders, he pulled him closer, eyes drifting shut as he nuzzled under his jaw, biting it lightly. That was an animal gesture, certainly, but Stiles wasn’t thinking about it, he was just thinking about how he _needed_ his mouth on Derek.

And at _that_ Derek sucked in a breath and tried his best to not dig his nails even further into the skin right above Stiles’ hip bone. “Fuck. I don’t think you have enough stamina to- Jesus.” Yes, Stiles, he was sure, didn’t have the stamina to be Jesus fucking Christ and perform miracles of sexual proportions at that particular moment.

He took a deep breath. “Stiles,” he said but nothing much else got out when those teeth were grazing along an Adam’s apple like that. Instead of talking, he chose to grab his chin and force his mouth back on his own while his hand kept hips from grinding up towards his.

Stiles went willingly with that, parting his lips to let Derek basically wreck his mouth. He tried to arch up, to fight the hold on him but he could barely budge so he eventually settling down with only a grumpy whine. He focused what he had left of his concentration on encouraging Derek to continue kissing him but it was clear that Stiles was winding down. His movements were less needy and more languid, the pauses between their lips longer and longer until he just sighed out, deep and contentedly.

 _Good._ He let his mouth kiss Stiles one last time before he eased him over to his side and curled up behind him. _Shut up, Stiles,_ he thought with an almost triumphant smile. The triumph didn’t last too long considering the fact that he just cockblocked _himself_ , but being an Alpha always meant you put the needs of your pack first. That was the lesson he had to learn and that’s the lesson that _sucked._

********

“I am totally coming home tonight!”

 _“And you’re going to explain the vandalism that happened at the Lahey cemetery?”_ Stiles’ dad’s voice had that particular dry quality that broke no arguments, even with wily teenaged sons who had yet to figure that out, or stop trying.

“Of course! Once I figure out what exactly happened there and that won’t implicate anyone that I may or may not have associations with,” he pointed out as he put his Jeep in park in front of Deaton’s office. Thankfully there weren’t any other cars in the parking lot so he could drop off his books rather quickly. Not that it was surprising considering how early it was. But Stiles had woken up overheated thanks to a certain wolfie space heater with boundary issues. He hadn’t been able to get back to sleep after that, so he just showered and grabbed a cup of coffee.

It had been weirdly domestic to have Derek see him off from the porch but they hadn’t talked much.

_“Stiles?”_

“Huh? Yeah, I’m here dad, just distracted that’s all,” he admitted, hitting the door of his jeep closed with his hip.

 _“You know you can talk to me about anything. I mean, what else could there be now?”_ His dad pointed out, sounding almost like he wanted to laugh at the absurdity.

“Don’t say stuff like that. You’ll not like what happens next,” Stiles pointed out as he shouldered his way into the clinic. He could hear the animals rustling around, some birds squawking to themselves, nothing out of the ordinary really.

_“Stiles, just... be home for dinner.”_

“With bells on,” he promised with a grin, “Love you.”

 _“Love you too.”_ Stiles hung up just as Deaton came through the doorway from the exam room.

“Good morning Mr. Stilinski. I’ll confess, I did not expect you so early after such an... active week,” Deaton was as smiley and as pleasant as ever.

“Yeah, miracles have been known to happen right?” Stiles meant to sound less desperate, especially when Deaton paused to give him a thoughtful look. “I mean, we’re done. With the books. Since the draugr’s dead and I’ve got all the notes I could from them, and thanks by the way, google’s the shit but apparently hunters aren’t really keen on starting up a wiki page for their murder and mayhem so...” Stiles wasn’t even sure where he was going with this.

“You’re quite welcome. However I can’t help but think your mind is elsewhere?”

Stiles slumped against the counter and laughed, bitterly. “Dude, I know you’re all wise and I think you know way more about all this than any of us will, like, _ever_ know but I don’t even think I can cover all what is wrong right now. I mean, no matter how hard we fight, no matter what we do, no matter how many lives we’ve saved... the Alphas are still going to kill Derek and tear apart our pack.”

That was just the big problem- that didn’t cover all the myriad of smaller, personal problems too that had cropped up since all this crap had gone down. Stiles wanted to go home and bury his head under a pillow, just give up. But he couldn’t.

“Scott was here, not long ago with similar concerns,” Deaton pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest though he didn’t seem to be closing off, simply waiting. “He is learning how to operate within the bounds of a pack, use his strengths for the good of the pack. You can too.”

Stiles snorted. “I don’t think my google-fu is going to impress the Alpha pack much.”

“Is that all you are capable of Mr. Stilinski?” Deaton’s smile was gently teasing. “I seem to recall mentioning that you had a _spark_ that made you unique among your associates.”

“Wait, you mean the bit with the mountain ash? I don’t think they’re gonna stand around close enough to let me trap them in that cabin, but thanks for the vote of confidence,” he dismissed with the shake of his head.

“That is just the beginning of what you can do. You have within you the capability for magic. Not everyone-” Deaton stopped talking and Stiles realized that there wasn’t any noise. No animal in the clinic was making a peep. He tensed up all at once, adrenaline flooding through his body. His eyes flicking around the office for something he could use to defend himself with when the bell went off at the counter.

Stiles arched his brows at the older man as if to ask ‘you gonna go out there?’.

“I can hear you breathing boy. Alan, please,” That was Lycaon’s voice and Stiles curled up his lip in disgust.

Deaton smoothed over his shirt and went out to greet the head Alpha, bowing his head politely but not showing his throat. Stiles stuck close to him, heart rabbiting in his throat despite trying to keep his cool. “Hello Savakis. You’re quite far from Washington, I take you’re here on business?”

“Yeah business of judging Derek to be a sucky Alpha and killing him for it.”

Lycaon grinned, showing off his fangs. “Boy, you really do need to learn to curb your tongue for your own continued health. And that ain’t a threat, just experience talkin’.”

“Yeah, lemme get right on that after you Alphas come in and rip apart my friends cuz we sure as hell ain’t going off with any of you,” Stiles retorted stubbornly, hands planted on top of the mountain ash fused countertop.

“And what if I said that wasn’t going to happen?”

Stiles’ face froze up as he processed that. “What?”

Deaton arched his brows. “You’re dropping the inquest? That’s... unusual at this point,” He suggested mildly.

“It ain’t when two thirds of the Alphas don’t think it’s worth it to pursue the matter anymore,” Lycaon grinned widely, chuckling as Stiles suddenly exploded into spastic motion.

“Seriously?! Oh my god, no one’s gonna die! This is so awesome! This is the best thing I have heard since Lydia Martin was in all my classes in 6th grade,” Stiles laughed, launching himself at Deaton to grab into a hug.

Deaton chuckled, patting Stiles on the back. “There is still a lot that your pack needs to accomplish-” He froze suddenly, making Stiles lift up his head.

Lycaon’s body was slumped over the countertop, blood slowly pooling at their feet. Behind him was Talbot, shifting towards his full Alpha form as Ms. Morell of all people looked on, coldly.

“Olivia don’t-”

Whatever else Deaton had to say was drown out by Talbot’s roar and Stiles knew in that moment he wasn’t making it home to his dad.

********

The entire time Stiles had been gone, something kept gnawing at the back of Derek’s mind. He’d gotten up when Stiles headed out to Doctor Deaton’s vet office, even saw him off from the porch and everything was as normal as it could have possibly been with them, but there was something _not right_. Wolves in general were always told to never ignore their gut instincts, and Derek usually paid close attention to his own, but this gut feeling was intense without having a specific label or situation to apply itself to. All he knew was that _something wasn’t right_.

It wasn’t until he put the proverbial 2 and 2 together that he was scrambling out the door. He’d been so stupid! It was barely more than a week or ago that he was telling Stiles how humans could link up with their Alphas without getting the Bite. Intimate contact, plain and simple, kick-started the entire process to the levels a beta wolf already received it... and if the night before could be labeled as anything, it was definitely some sort of intimate contact.

He bypassed his Camaro and took off in a full on wolf run towards town. The entire trek was a blur of emotions as he tried to clear his vision enough to actually see what the hell Stiles was trying his best to tell him. There wasn’t much to the images, a flash of conflict here, a rough thrust against a wall that almost sent Derek into a tumble before he could better regain his footing. And then there was Talbot’s face, grinning - no... _snarling_ \- and he was too close to Stiles’s face for Derek’s comfort levels. 

Derek wasn’t sure what the time lapse was, but it was only a handful of minutes at best before he arrived at the vet clinic to find it in complete disarray. Front door broken, interior contents everywhere, and animals of all types running loose save the few dogs that huddled mournfully around a body over in the back corner of the examination room. Derek could smell blood, Stiles’ blood and Deaton’s, but only one body he had yet to approach.

He moved in and crouched down, cleaning debris off the form. The kill was fresh. He hadn’t missed the killer by five minutes. The last bit of counter removed and he could scarcely make out the side of Deaton’s face and his hand moved immediately to cover his mouth. Even crouched, his weight gave out from under him and he fell to his backside. “No.”

Here was the man who was sworn to protect him, the man who’d looked out for him after his mother died and after his sister...

Here was Deaton, his guardian of sorts, dead like the rest of his family. 

Derek shut his eyes and stumbled to his feet. He could still smell Stiles but Stiles was nowhere to be found. The scent got stronger closer to the back where cages of animals dead and dismembered threatened to make his stomach turn against him. The plaid shirt on the broken door frame froze him in place.

That was Stiles’ shirt.

He ran towards it and snatched it up, pulling the fabric up to his nose. When his eyes opened they were alpha red and the footprints that indented heavier the further away from the door that they fell indicated someone was carrying extra stubborn weight that refused to walk along with them quietly. “Stiles!” It was stupid to shout, stupid to let anyone who might happen to have still been there know he was coming, that he was looking, but he called out anyway.

He fell back down to his knees when the footsteps went invisible. The tracks just... stopped. It was as if they flew to a new location. No tire marks to look out for either. There was just emptiness and Stiles wasn’t responding along whatever connection they had managed to make.

The howl that tore from his throat was blood curdling and though it held an air of sadness and remorse... it was more threatening than any he’d ever let loose before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this one. We're very flattered to everyone that has stuck with us through the beginning and we're grateful for every comment and kudos and bookmark. There is a sequel that's still being worked on so those updates will be less steady than this fic has been.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: There will be one character death in this fic but none of the characters depicted in a romantic relationship. There will be also one scene of killing an animal (non-graphically) for plot-related reasons.


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